From the Ground Up
by Cashmere67
Summary: "Survivors aren't always the strongest; sometimes they're the smartest, but more often simply the luckiest."
1. No One is Safe

**Head Gamemaker Manette**

_Il ne faut pas faire ces choses à moitié._

* * *

Being a Gamemaker is a thrilling position by itself, but being a Head Gamemaker makes it even more thrilling. I, with the assistance from a few others, orchestrate the event that Panem strives off of – the Hunger Games.

I create the tributes' outfits, the arena, the muttations, and many other things.

Being a Head Gamemaker allows you to have a degree of vanity; you're essentially below the President. But for me, it means something much more than just the title.

I am the first female to be a Head Gamemaker. I have to prove myself; I must create an arena that no one else could possibly imagine, muttations that are much more advanced than last year's, and lastly, impressing the President with whoever makes it out of the arena as victor.

I have been analyzing and scrutinizing each Hunger Games, starting from the first.

Looking back on the previous Games, I contemplate whether to resign or simply scoff. The arenas were dreadful, as well as the tributes who participated in them. Such disgraces of events have besmirched Panem and its glory.

It's scandalizing to see the President of Panem allow such Games to occur. The past five games specifically have been the most banal and appalling Games yet.

The Fifteenth Hunger Games was set in a small arena with a large lake in the center of it. Of course, all of the tributes stayed near the lake. It was tedious to watch and it was a severe let-down. Thankfully, it only lasted four days; which is the shortest any Games have ever lasted.

The Sixteenth Hunger Games was set in an abandoned city. Nothing too special; some random landmines, stores supplied with food and weapons, and when the final ten came around, several natural disasters ravaged the arena.

The Seventeenth Hunger Games was one of the most mysterious. The actual environment of the arena was never revealed because of the fog. The fog was thick, not allowing any tribute to see a few feet ahead of them. The Bloodbath was the most brutal, with a total of fifteen deaths. The tributes stumbled around, attempting to find a single weapon or a single food item. Unknowingly, allies killed allies and foes killed foes.

The Eighteenth Hunger Games was set underwater. The tributes rose into the arena in a glass tube, equipped with scuba-diving gear and an oxygen tank that only contained enough oxygen for fifteen minutes. In the Cornucopia, oxygen tanks were supplied, along with tridents, harpoons, nets, and other nautical items. The weapons were extremely heavy, which made it difficult to use them efficiently. A fit victor from District Four won that year's Game.

The Nineteenth Hunger Games was set in seemingly endless badlands. But this was the most vexatious games in all of the history of Panem; the victor was a weakling from District Ten. It came down to the final three and the male from Ten decided it was time to trick the two remaining Careers. He took the capsule from one of his sponsor gifts and put Nightlock berries into it. He placed the false-sponsor-gift on the ground, expecting the Careers to open it and eat what's inside. Luckily for him, that's exactly what they did – thinking it was from a sponsor, they ate what was inside, ultimately killing themselves.

The nineteenth Hunger Games is a lesson for all Careers; a lesson that must be put into effect. They should not ignore survival courses and should not underestimate tributes from outer Districts.

This year, I will personally test the Careers. I want see if they are as observant and clever as they think they are. A combination of traps, muttations, and deceiving objects will be present in this year's arena.

No matter the District, no tribute will be safe in this arena. Every single tribute must pay attention to those survival courses during training. Studying and training at those might make the difference between life and death.

Obviously, the tributes won't know about my arena until the launch. If they have watched the last few Games, they should have realized that survival courses would have been beneficial to several tributes.

But for now, all I have to worry about is getting the approval from President Carton.

President Carton, who has been the President ever since the Hunger Games were inaugurated, is who I must impress. If he has allowed those Hunger Games, mine will most certainly be accepted as well. My arena for the twentieth Hunger Games will be a shoo-in and will be remembered.

It will be remembered for being one of the most ingenious and foreboding arenas. Hopefully, the President will admire me to such a degree that he will ask me to continue my position as Head Gamemaker.

These asinine Gamemakers that have made such terrible arenas have plagued the Head Gamemaker's position. I, Head Gamemaker Manette, will turn that legacy into a reputable one. From now on, Gamemakers will be feared and revered.

It must be perfection.

Now, what else can I do to enhance this year's arena?

* * *

_Il ne faut pas se fier aux apparences._

* * *

**District One**

Male: Cove Barley, 16.

Female: Velour Versailles, 18.

**District Two**

Male: Nero Recknor, 17.

Female: Olivine Keenan, 18.

**District Three **

Male: Robin Sherrell, 16.

Female: Kaelyn Taitrin, 16.

**District Four **

Male: Adam Kent, 18.

Female: Mariel Seavey, 17.

**District Five**

Male: Sinter Farwood, 16.

Female: Minx Hyede, 13.

**District Six **

Male: Harley Astaire, 16.

Female: Ivonette Frost, 18.

**District Seven **

Male: Tobias Cress, 17.

Female: Seer Brine, 17.

**District Eight **

Male: Emmett Till, 15.

Female: Quole Issa, 14.

**District Nine **

Male: Noah Miller, 12.

Female: Amelie Delaine, 16.

**District Ten **

Male: Asher Hadamik, 18.

Female: Lyra Bane, 16.

**District Eleven **

Male: Dresden Scott, 13.

Female: Cama Zale, 17.

**District Twelve **

Male: Caolan Harper, 15.

Female: Amara Dane, 18.

* * *

**All of the tributes have been submitted. This is the link to the blog:**

w w w. fromthegrounduphg. blogspot. c o m


	2. District One

**I apologize for taking so long to update, but I will update shortly. On the plus side, I have finished the blog, and if there are any questions or concerns, I will revise it. This is the link to the blog:**

w w w. fromthegrounduphg. blogspot. c o m

* * *

**Cove Barley**

_Les chiens ne font pas des chats._

* * *

_At this point, the Careers were the only surviving tributes left in the Games. They decided to stay intact for as long as they could, and their time has drawn to an end. The leader, the male from District One, allows each one of his allies to equip themselves with a single weapon – to prepare for the final battle. _

_They distanced themselves with a few feet in between each person. They all turned around, facing the opposite way. The Career leader counted to five, very, very slowly. Then he reached that number and instantly, the five Careers charged at each other. _

_The first to fall was the female from District Two, who was struck down by her own District partner. The male from District Two continued to kill his former-allies; he decapitated the District One female with ease and then strangled the District Four female. The District One male, the District Two male, and the District Four male were the only ones remaining. _

_The males from District Two and Four, who had plotted earlier, directed their attention on the District One male. The District One male stood there, cackling away, knowing that they would do this to him. The District Four male stood there confused, and wasn't aware of the fact that the District One male had nocked an arrow onto his bow already. When he released the arrow, it was too late for the District Four male to escape his death. _

_He taunted his other opponent, shooting arrows at feet, purposely missing him. He nocked another arrow on his bow, haughtily calling his name – 'Arkon'. Arkon began sprinting towards him, sword in one hand and a dagger in another. The District One male released the arrow and it implanted itself in Arkon's neck. _

"_May I present to you the victor of the Second Hunger Games – Glass Cooper!" _

I rub my eyes and look outside the window, attempting to regain my proper eyesight after watching these videos constantly. The next disc was next to the television and I slip it into the slot on the side. I press the fast-forward button on the remote and pause the television at a specific spot. I nestle my body into a blanket and get comfortable once again.

_It has come down to the final five – the female from District One, the male from District Five, the male from District Seven, the female from District Nine, and the male from District Ten. A feast has commenced and all of the tributes have made their way into the barn where new supplies have been placed._

_The District Five male stepped forward into the barn, and tripped over a trip-wire. A trap-door opened up in front of him, and he fell down into the pit, where he was then eaten alive by muttations. Startled, the male from District Seven began to run back towards the grain-fields, but encountered the District One female while trying to escape. _

'_Pointelle,' he whimpered, with fear in his voice, trying to be spared. Not listening to his plea, the District One female drove her spear directly into his heart. The sound of his cannon didn't even startle her and she walked in a poised manner into the barn. The male from District Ten was rummaging through the supplies, frantically trying to grab whatever he can. He kept looking to the back of him to be cautious, but when he saw Pointelle heading his way, he dropped his belongings and tried to open a door to get out. _

_To his astonishment, the door was locked and he banged on it as hard as he can, hoping someone would come and save him. Pointelle pushed him onto the ground and began stabbing him over and over again, even after his cannon sounded. The District Nine female had made her way into the barn and managed to grab one thing – a fire-starting kit. _

_She crept out of the barn while Pointelle was still repeatedly stabbing her victim. The District Nine female hid behind the barn and attempted to ignite a fire. She eventually lit a fire and threw it inside of the barn. Without looking back, the District Nine female faced the grain-fields. Knowing she just won, she fell to her knees and began crying. _

"_May I present to you the victor of the Third Hunger Games – Lichen Barley!" _

I watch these specific Games over and over again to prove one thing – my identity.

I compare my strengths and talents to those of my father and mother to see who I am more like. The question has always recalled in my mind – do I reflect District One or District Nine?

They are both past victors, but ironically, from two different Districts. Although it has always been illegal to travel between Districts, this rule wasn't as strictly enforced during the years the Second, Third, and Fourth Hunger Games took place.

They met while mentoring during the Fourth Hunger Games and the two of them got along instantly. Or, that's what they tell me. They bet on their tributes with each other, and unfortunately, neither of them won. The two of them fell in love rather quickly, but knew they would face a problem – living in two separate Districts.

My mother had to get permission from the mayor of District Nine to permanently move to District One, which wasn't too easy to get. The mayor didn't allow her to go at first since she was District Nine's first victor, but he realized it might make the people try for many more victors, since the Capitol treats them better if they have a victor in their District. The mayor made it a whole spectacle; making sure every citizen in District Nine that their victor was moving to District One.

I'm not sure if any of this is true, to be honest, since my mother never tells me about District Nine. There's a lot more I want to know – what are the people like? How do they dress? What do they eat?

I am especially interested in the Capitol. My views are ambivalent, though; I adore them for the way they treat Career Districts and how esteemed it is, but I can't help but them despise at the same time for how cruel they truly are.

Even Districts like Six, Eight, and even Twelve. They have to be different than District One, don't they? They have to have their own standards and culture.

My mother's reluctant to answer and barely even says 'yes' or 'no' to any of my questions. My mother's history is more of a mystery than my father's.

He was your typical Career; arrogant and vicious. He volunteered to go into the Hunger Games to win for the glory and wealth. He achieved this goal and is now living in the Victor's Village with a wife and a son.

"Cove, come down to the basement for a few minutes."

My father's monotonous voice disrupts the silence in my room. When I walk out of my room, he is already gone; he probably rushed down into the basement. My father and I have been training for the past six years, but he doesn't quite understand that I am not training solely to volunteer when I am old enough.

I'm training for personal reasons; I want to know more about the other Districts and the Capitol. I want to interact with other tributes, mentors, and escorts. I want to eat the food that seems so delicious from the Capitol. I want to board the train and feel a sense of determination and enlightenment rush through me.

But I can't tell my father any of this. I'll say I'm volunteering because of 'tradition' – for the riches and glory. I will let him see the son he wants, but not the real me. While I sit here and hypothesize more about the outside world and my parent's history, he can think whatever he wants.

I saunter down the staircase and open the door that is at the bottom of it. From the top of the staircase leading to the basement, I can hear my father arranging weapons and humming to himself. I sigh and force myself to continue walking. Once I reach a few steps to the bottom, he turns off the light and it goes silent.

"You must find me," he murmurs.

"Please, father, turn the lights back on! I am afraid of the dark!" I banter, laughing uncontrollably.

He drops the weapon he was holding and turns the lights back on. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm kidding," I stick out my tongue. "Now pass me the knives."

My father tosses me a small backpack that has several knives in it and I purposely miss catching it, letting it hit my leg. I feign injury and wrap my hands around my leg.

"You injured me! Call the medics!"

"Cut it out, Cove, we have to train," my father picks the backpack off of the ground and places it in my hands.

He begins setting up targets around the room and I take one of the knives out of the bag. I throw a knife at one of the targets and it lands bulls-eye.

I put the knife to my mouth, "One point for Cove Barley!"

"Don't cut your mouth with that knife," my father sneers. "Or, you can, if you'd like."

"We don't want another one of _those_ types of accidents, do we?"

"No, we do not. I won't call the medics next time, you can suffer," my father chuckles, "I'll leave you alone now. At least show some effort in training, Cove, today's the reaping."

I wait for him to get upstairs before doing anything else. He doesn't necessarily agree with the way I train, but it works. I have good stamina, aim when I want to, and I know how use long-range weapons efficiently.

I grab two knives out of the backpack and equip myself with them. I close my eyes and spin around in circles for a few seconds, until I am extremely dizzy. I open my eyes and quickly throw the two knives.

The first knife lands in the arm of a dummy, which could cause some damage to whomever that would hit. The second knife, though, takes me a while to find. I hear a few spears get knocked off of the rack and roll towards me. I pick one up and examine it.

A spear isn't my preferred weapon. They're too heavy and aiming with one of these is much more difficult than aiming with a knife.

I look over to another rack and see a bow and a few arrows attached to it. During my parents' games, my father used a bow and arrow and my mother used a knife.

Maybe I inherited my ability to use knives from my mother. That would make me connected to her somehow, wouldn't it?

"Cove, Glow is here to see you. Shall I send her down?" My mother calls down from upstairs.

"I don't care about what you say, Cove, I'm coming down there either way," Glow flips her hair and struts down the stairs.

I met her a few years back and we occasionally train together. She's rather funny, though; she has a short-temper and is loud-mouthed. She will say whatever she thinks whenever she wants to and doesn't think much of anyone else's opinions. Her personality is vibrant, but so is her appearance – her auburn hair compliments her fairly tanned skin. She's truly beautiful, but I can't let my feelings get in the way of our friendship. As she says, she considers me her 'little brother'.

Glow jabs her fingers into my stomach and giggles, "You weakling. Do you plan on volunteering today?"

I grin, "Yes, actually."

"Why not wait until next year so we can volunteer together?"

I bite my lip, "You know that wouldn't be a good idea, Glow."

"And why is that?"

"You should know why."

"I really don't know why, Cove. Seriously, that'd be so much fun! We can even share a kill if you want!" She says gleefully.

I laugh to myself at the thought of us killing a tribute together, "Think."

"Fill in the blank, Cove. Us volunteering together is not a good idea because," she pauses and expects me to complete her sentence.

"Only one person can make it out alive."

* * *

**Velour Versailles**

_L'argent est un bon serviteur et un mauvais maître._

* * *

When someone mentions the word 'wealth', what comes to one's mind?

Many picture wealth as having an excessive amount of money, the nicest house, or even the most luxurious items.

But it represents something much more than that – especially in Panem.

District One will get richer and District Twelve will get poorer. That's how it is; the richer will get richer and the poorer will get poorer.

With money, you can live a splendid life; purchasing anything you want, flaunting off your money to those less fortunate. Money can truly buy happiness.

But, of course, this all comes easily to someone as _fortunate _as me. Being the mayor's daughter truly has its perks.

I have been able to afford the best trainer, the best weapons and the best training outfits that have ever been manufactured, and I even bought my intelligence.

Education is a luxury that only certain people deserve. Not all, only a few. The laborers of District Eight deserve no such thing, while the residents of District One who do their taxing occupations have to earn the right for education.

You earn it with wealth. The higher up you are in this social-hierarchy, the more you merit education. And education is _vital_ to success.

People like me, on the other hand, have it easy. People who specialize in a variety of topics constantly knock on my door asking to tutor me. It's interesting to see that they're only knocking on my door not to just teach me, but to also get compensated for it.

And who would be able to pay those people? The mayor and his family is who.

Everything reflects the concept of 'wealth'.

Even these Avoxes get some money from my family. What do they do exactly? Clean up after me? Help me get dressed? Feed me? Do anything I say to do?

They do exactly all of those things. Doesn't it sound splendid?

Well, it is. Not too many people can live a life like I do. The life I live makes me better than those miserable souls of District Ten or District Twelve.

I plop down on the couch and spread out my body after a long day of intense training. I refer to intense training as the time I hit the bulls-eye of each target with my arrow.

I snap my finger and gesture my hand. The Avoxes already know what I want; to be fanned, several trays of food and colored liquid, and my father.

I rub my hand along the elegant couch; it's some sumptuous fabric with a nice texture.

This couch represents me in a way. I'm sumptuous and elegant, but my texture is _wonderful_ not 'nice'.

Avoxes enter my room with several trays of food and beverages on trays. Two Avoxes open up hand-fans and stand to the right and left of me. They start fanning me and I move my hand up and down until I get a preferred breeze from their fans; I don't want them to go too slow or too fast.

"I asked you to get my father, did I not? Now where is he?" I snap.

I push a cup towards one of the Avoxes and they pour a green colored liquid into the cup. I bring the cup to my nose and judge it off of the aroma before I taste it. This just won't do; it smells like something sour.

I put the cup on a tray and push another one towards the Avox, "The pink."

The Avox complies with my orders and pours the pink colored liquid into the cup, very slowly, knowing I am watching her every move. I take a sip from the cup and moan in pleasure; now this is the good stuff.

My mother hurries into the room, knowing that to leave me waiting is inadvisable and a very bad idea.

"Mother, where is daddy?" I raise my voice with the 'y' in 'daddy'.

"Velour, he's busy. You know it's reaping day."

"It is, isn't it? Now, run off and go get him."

"I just said he's busy-"

I interrupt her, "I just said to go get him? We all know who will win this discussion."

I wave my hand, indicating she is now allowed to leave the room. She walks towards the door but looks back at me quickly.

She points to the door downstairs, "Many suitors have been asking for your hand in marriage, Velour."

I run my finger through a cake on a tray, "Let them eat cake!"

She raises and eyebrow and grabs the doorknob, but I continue speaking before she can close the door.

"They should be eating a fine delicacy instead of wasting their time asking me silly questions!"

I lick the icing off of my finger and wiggle my finger at her. Ignoring my witty remark, she leaves the room and shuts the door. The two Avoxes who have been fanning me have slowed down and I will not allow such a thing to happen.

I snap my fingers, "You wouldn't want someone to fan you like this, would you?"

Waiting for a response, I take another sip from the cup. I know they can't actually respond, but I'll taunt them anyway. They are much lower than I am on the hierarchy in District One. They are even below the people who actually work in this District, which says a lot.

"Oh, wait, I forgot. You would never get such treatment."

I raise my body a little and glance out the window. Outside there is the courtyard in front of my house, with rows and rows of beautiful flowers with a large fountain in the middle of it. Two Peacekeepers stand in front of the gates of my house. There are also two men I have never seen before standing at the gates.

This must be what my mother was talking about; the suitors.

Suitors are all of the men who come to my house in attempts to ask for my hand in marriage. Marrying something as esteemed and reputable as me is not easy.

I prefer being single, anyway. That means more time to pamper and care for myself, rather than anyone else. Most of them only want to marry me because I'm the mayor's daughter.

All they really want is my family's wealth. Another thing goes back to wealth. This only proves my point further.

I glance at the men again, but this time I notice something else – they are holding signs. What could they possibly say?

The signs probably say nothing important if the people are being pushed away by the Peacekeepers.

I take another sip from the cup and place it back down on the tray. After grabbing a few cookies from a tray, I walk downstairs and grab my jacket.

I think I will go for a stroll; it's a beautiful day outside and I want to see what Justice Building looks like today. My father is probably there, anyway, and I want to visit him.

The fur from the jacket wraps around my body and makes me feel relaxed. This wasn't cheap; the fur is from an exotic animal and this is a one-in-a-kind jacket.

It is rather chilly outside today, but luckily I have this jacket. This one-in-a-kind-jacket. This expensive jacket.

Once again, wealth. Only people like me can afford such a jacket.

I glance in a window of a house and notice two children fixing their clothes. It's probably almost time for the reaping. The reaping day doesn't mean much to me, simply because I will never concern myself with it.

Attending the reapings is a requirement, so I have to go. I go reluctantly, knowing I am only going to stand in the eighteen-year-old section with a bunch of under-privileged girls. Most of the girl's families are probably dreading the reaping, but mine aren't, and neither am I.

Unfortunately, other family members of mine dread the reaping because they have been affected by the Hunger Games.

My cousin, Velvet, volunteered to go into the twelfth Hunger Games. She was older than me at the time; her being eighteen-years-old and me being ten-years-old.

The arena was a large cemetery, something Velvet would have never thought of. The tributes rose into the arena and were placed in coffins. They had to figure out a way to dig out of the coffins, which caused difficulty for many people – including Velvet.

She barely made it out of her coffin alive. Without the help from her District partner, she would have died in that coffin.

There were only a total of four Bloodbath kills, which wasn't a big amount compared to earlier games. After the Bloodbath, Velvet walked away with a zero kill count.

Velvet was a disgrace to the Careers, until Day Three came around. On that day, the District Two female started to mock her. The District Two female mocked her name, family, District, and basically everything else about Velvet.

Velvet was a short-tempered girl and would kill you in a second if you got her mad. That's how she got her first kill; the male from District Nine stole a few supplies from the Cornucopia and Velvet was angered by this thief.

The District Two female kept mocking her and Velvet threatened her. The District Two female didn't think she would actually do anything about it, so she kept mocking her. Over and over again.

When there were only four people left in the Career alliance, Velvet poisoned the girl on the night of Day Five. Everyone thought it was Velvet who killed the District Two female, but they couldn't prove that she did it, so they just let it be.

Within the span of two more days, the District Four male and the District Two male died. This meant there were only two people left in the Career alliance – the District One male and Velvet.

Velvet was an oblivious girl, though. She woke up on the morning of Day Seven in one of the coffins from the launch. Her District partner had dug one of them up and place it in the middle of open land. Velvet kicked and screamed, but to no avail. Her District partner sat on top of the coffin and laughed at her pitiful attempts to get out.

Ultimately, on Day Nine, Velvet died in that coffin from suffocation. Starvation and dehydration were probably also reasons why she died.

The District Five female ended up winning the twelfth Hunger Games. Regardless of the victor, Velvet's death still had an impact on my family.

I chose to forget about Velvet being a part of our family and chose to remember how much of a disgrace she was. She chose not to train as much as me, which could have helped her severely. Her family didn't have as much money as mine does, but they could have afforded a better personal trainer than having her go to a training academy.

Only if she was like me; intelligent, clever, and I know how to use weapons efficiently. None of this will be of any use to me after today, though.

After the reaping is over today, I will go home and try to forget about all of my training.

I might have trained, but only because my family had the money to waste. I pay attention in training, just in case I ever get reaped. But what are the chances of that happening?

Girls volunteer all the time and if they don't, my father could always bribe someone to volunteer. I am sure the whole District would do anything they could to prevent me from going into the Hunger Games.

Wealth is a wonderful and beneficial thing, isn't it?

It can even save someone's life if necessary.

* * *

**Cove Barley**

* * *

I situate myself in between two other sixteen-year-olds and think of the best way possible to make it to the stage. I can go to the right and circumvent the group, or I can go to the left and make a bigger impression.

The escort, a tall, thin woman with a rose rig that compliments her pale skin, walks onto the stage and taps the microphone a few times to get everyone's attention. Like always, we will watch a video that the Capitol has made to teach us about Panem's history and Hunger Games. I usually block this video out and just listen to my own thoughts.

Remember why you're volunteering, Cove: Not to follow in your father's foot-steps, not to gain a reputation and money, it's for you to figure out who you really are. It is for you to learn about the other Districts. It is for you to interact with tributes from outer Districts and try to figure out how life is in those Districts.

Although my mother doesn't want me to go into the games, I must. I have to figure out something about them. I can't listen to their stories anymore; I must figure out everything on my own.

The escort claps her hands together once, "Now, now. It is time to pick the two tributes that will represent District One in the Twentieth annual Hunger Games. Ladies first."

She walks over to one of the bowls on the stage and dips her hand in. She moves her hand around the bowl and then randomly picks one of the pieces of paper.

I close my eyes and breathe slowly, hoping it does not say 'Glow Gold'.

"Velour Versailles."

I hear several whispers and giggles from the girl's section and in the boy's section every boy's eye look directly at Velour. She's an extremely attractive girl who is just as prissy as her name. To make it even better, she's the mayor's daughter.

A Peacekeeper grabs her arm and she pulls it away, "Do not touch me."

She snaps her fingers and four Avoxes surround her and they walk with her to the stage. The Avoxes hold out their hands and help Velour walk up the stage. She struts to the center of the stage, with a wide smile on her face, but you can see something else in her eyes – this isn't what she wants. And she's used to getting what she wants.

This doesn't seem right, though. How could the mayor's daughter be reaped?

_Something_ has to be wrong here.

* * *

**Velour Versailles**

* * *

I clench my fists, holding back the tears that are ready to stream down my face. How is this possible?

Please tell me this is a dream. I am ready to wake up from this nightmare and continue living my lavish life.

Why isn't my father doing anything about this? My mother? Anyone?

I look at my father who is looking down at his lap and then I look at my mother who is looking at the escort. Why is no one paying any attention to me?

Is that what they want? Are they content with me going into the Hunger Games?

"Now for the young gentlemen," the escort walks to the bowl on the other side of the stage and sticks her hand into it.

From the corner of my eye, I notice a few boys already get into position to run to the stage. No one has made any actual motion towards the stage, but once she says the name, they will. They will stampede to the stage savage animals.

"Garnett-"

Before the escort can finish the name, several boys sprint towards the stage. One boy, though, runs to the opposite side of his section and completely goes around the confusion in the center. He has short brown hair and you can see some muscle in his arms and legs.

He walks onto the stage, looking behind him, making sure no one will grab him and pull him down. The escort walks over and grabs his hand.

"What's your name?"

"Cove Barley," he replies.

"May I present to you the two tributes that will represent District One in the twentieth annual Hunger Games – Velour Versailles and Cove Barley!"

This boy, whose name is Cove, lets out a small chuckle when he makes eye contact with me. I raise my eyebrow and he holds out his hand.

"I'm Velour," I grab his hand gently.

"I'm your worst nightmare," Cove laughs heartily and shakes my hand rather forcefully.

I giggle at Cove's corny joke. The escort grabs both of our hands and directs us into the Justice Building, where we will say our final good-byes. I turn towards Cove one last time and he sticks out his tongue.

"I like you, Cove, don't ruin it."

* * *

**Cove Barley**

* * *

My mother and father are the first ones to say good-bye to me. They both embrace me and hug me tightly. I know this isn't what my mother wanted and this is what my father wanted, but I didn't do this for them.

"I'm sorry," I murmur.

"Don't be," my father says, patting me on the shoulder.

"Be quiet, Glass, don't you realize what can happen? We can lose him!" My mother pouts.

"Lichen, he'll be fine, he's my son, isn't he?" He chuckles and rubs his hand through my hair.

"Yeah, I'm _his _son. I'll probably to at least Day Two with that type of achievement."

My father laughs, but my mother remains quiet. We sit there for the next minute, looking at each other, opening our mouths, but not speaking. There isn't much to say to each other anymore. 'Good luck' doesn't mean much to me.

After my parents leave, my friends, Neon and Glow, walk in. He's the 'little brother' I never actually had and he means a great amount to me. Leaving him will be one thing I will definitely miss about this District.

"Remember when you tripped over my body, Cove?"

"Yes, when you were lying in the middle of the street. What about it?"

"If you can kick someone else with as much force as you kicked me with, you can definitely win this," he laughs.

I grin, remembering the day we met. It was nearly four years ago, but I still remember that moment.

"You have had your time, Neon! Now it's my turn!" Glow pouts.

"I'll miss you Glow, I really will," I poke her in the cheek.

"I know you will. I suppose I will miss you too," she banters.

I wrap my arms around her neck and she wraps her arms around my stomach. Glow shoves Neon in between us and we all laugh uncontrollably.

Will I eventually regret this decision? But I know what I must do and this cannot get in the way of finding my identity.

* * *

**Velour Versailles**

* * *

Once I get into the room, I lock the door and throw myself onto the couch. I put my hands over my eyes while the tears are streaming down my face. I try to muffle my wails and make myself quiet.

"Velour, open up, it's your father."

My father knocks a few times. With each knock, it becomes louder and rattles the door. The Peacekeepers don't do anything about this; at least they realize I don't want to speak to anyone right now.

"Father is such a meaningful word, isn't it?" I screech at the top of my lungs.

"I am so sorry. There was nothing I could have done to prevent you from being reaped or have another girl volunteer for you."

I keep quiet, stilling crying rather loudly. I find it hard to believe that there is nothing he could have done.

This is the mayor's family we're talking about here, not some small business owner's family. I am important and valuable.

What will happen from here on out?

But I can't give up. I have trained, studied, and watched all of the previous games. I know what to do in the arena and who to trust.

I will do anything I possibly can do return to District One. I am not sure how I will win this, but I will make sure I do.

Being the mayor's daughter, most people might see me as some pompous and narcissistic person, but I can assure you I am much more than that.

How hard can these games actually be anyway? Velvet made it pretty far and she died from being reckless. She had the potential to make it further, but something happened to her that she didn't see coming. I will make sure to not make such a mistake.

I will prove to everyone that I am capable of winning these games.

And nothing can stop me.


	3. District Two

**I have returned, finally. I know it's a little late, but I have updated, and that's all that matters. But anyway, here is the link to the blog: **

w w w. fromthegrounduphg. blogspot. c o m

* * *

**Nero Recknor**

_Chien qui aboie ne mord pas._

* * *

My father, Tyson Recknor, is the reputable man who altered the ways of the Hunger Games forever. Still, what he had accomplished in the first Hunger Games still continues until this day. He created a legacy of certain tributes that allied together, killed as a spectacle, and were oozing of arrogance. They were forever known as the Career tributes.

When my father was reaped he wasn't too sure about what could happen to him. During training in the Capitol, he made sure to brainwash himself with every valuable piece of information he was supplied with. He convinced his District partner to do what he was doing; going from station-to-station, learning everything he possibly could. Him and his District partner set an example for the other tributes, and then had a few others who were interested in his method of training – the pair from District One and Four.

The Capitol had favored District One already since it produced luxury goods, but it never showed much interest in District Two and Four. Until my father, that is.

When the Capitol witnessed these specific tributes training and preparing themselves for the games, they were intrigued. These children are doing exactly what the Capitol wants and they found that very interesting.

During my father's interviews, he made sure to make his alliance seem terrifying. He called himself ingenious because of his idea to assemble such an alliance.

The Capitol saw this is a chance to terrify the Districts even more. The tributes from District One, Two, and Four are showing interest in the Hunger Games. They couldn't have possibly let something like that slip-up.

After my father's victory, the Capitol began treating the citizens of District One, Two, and Four with much more care and ease than they used to. They began giving them much more money, food, and anything else the Districts wanted. The Districts then devoted themselves to the oh-so generous Capitol.

From there on out, children were brainwashed into thinking that the Capitol is the best and that they should bring honor to their District. Children trained back in their home-District, and would eventually volunteer to go into the games.

They volunteered to fight to the death. Arrogance and vanity flourished throughout the favored Districts. The Capitol would do anything they could to have Districts actually enjoy the Hunger Games.

Children from Districts One, Two, and Four made a career out of training and volunteering, so they were labeled as the 'Career Tributes'.

Even in the second Hunger Games, the tributes from Districts One, Two, and Four allied with each other. It became a norm for tributes from these Districts to win each year.

The victors would live a wonderful life; living in the Victor's Village, they would be showered in riches, and be a celebrity across all of Panem.

These aspects of prosperity are what I have devoted myself to. The Hunger Games are a wonder; a glorious thing. The great things that come out of winning the Hunger Games are to die for.

My father relives his life through me; training, volunteering, and hopefully winning. He expects so much from me, and I truly try to be like him, but it isn't simple.

My father has glorified the Hunger Games, but not for what they really are, but for what one can get out of them – fame, wealth, and the title as 'victor'.

From my constant training and idolatry for the Hunger Games, my father has grown an enormous amount of respect for me.

This is what I have reflected my life upon for the past seventeen years. This is all I know.

But my father never thinks: What if I don't have what it takes?

"Faster, Nero, faster. You're slacking," my father slams the padded-club onto one of the gauntlet-steps.

I bend my knees, preparing to spring off onto the gauntlet. I leap off of the ground and land on the third gauntlet-step. I begin to jump from step-to-step, until I feel a great force slam against the back of my leg.

My father swings the padded-club again, trying to hit me with it. I jump up and then side-jump to the next gauntlet-step. My father grunts with every swing of the padded-club.

"With what you're showing me, you will be a definite Bloodbath!"

"I can win this," I huff.

"Then prove it."

I jump down from the gauntlet and jog over towards the axe-rack. I grab two large axes and equip myself with one in each of my hand.

I wave the axe at my father and he grabs the bow and arrow that is next to him. He places an arrow on the bow and aims it at me.

If he doesn't care if I get hit, why should I care if he gets hit?

He releases the arrow and from the corner of my eye I can see it flying towards my leg arm. I dodge the arrow and knock it down with my axe while it's still in the air.

I raise my axe and throw it towards my father who does a simple side-step. The axe lodges itself in the padding on the wall.

"Your aim is terrible, Nero."

"You didn't do so well yourself," I sneer under my breath.

He grabs two dummies and places them in front of me. Whenever he does this, he tells me to imagine someone as the dummy. This is to prove if I can really kill someone – no matter the person.

"It's Julius. Imagine the sandy-haired boy with his dark eyes. He's tall and athletic. Now kill him."

I raise my axe and bring it down towards the dummy's shoulder, but I don't let it hit. The door opens up and I can hear footsteps walking towards me.

"What's wrong, Nero? Can't kill me?"

"Oh please, Julius, I could kill you in a second."

I met Julius at training a few years ago and we occasionally train together. He plans on volunteering next year; he says it's a "prize to be won."

Slamming the axe down on the dummy's shoulder, I can hear Julius and my father laughing.

"Now pretend it's a twelve year old from District Ten. He's about to die from blood-loss and he's begging you for medication and supplies. He falls to his knees in desperation."

My father's words are graphic and make me imagine something of this nature. What if this was happened? Would I actually be able to kill the tribute?

I lower my arm and the axe falls to the ground. I turn towards my father and he only raises his eyebrow at me.

"What do you think you're doing? Kill him."

_I can't._

"Nero?"

I grab the dummy's head and ferociously rip it off. The dummy's head falls to the ground and I kick it towards my father. He stops it with his foot and a soft-giggle erupts from the corner of my room.

"You'll be next, Celia, watch yourself," I point directly at her.

"Is that so? I've seen you wield an axe, Nero. Get over yourself."

She comes out of the corner of the room and begins walking toward us. On the way, she grabs a spear and pretends to throw it at me several times. I stand there, emotionless, not being startled by her attempts to frighten me.

"Leave your brother alone, Celia, he's training," my father grabs the spear from her hand and throws it down on the ground.

If I couldn't kill someone like that hypothetical District Ten boy, could I kill someone like Celia? Someone who will be out to get me in the arena.

Killing seems easy, but there has to be something else to it. The road to becoming a victor is paved with blood, and I must trek across it.

My father makes the Hunger Games seem like a glorious thing, but is it really? Or is it a trap?

I shake these thoughts out of my head; I must kill to win. It's a fact.

"You're dismissed Celia. You too Julius," my father says sternly.

Celia saunters out of the room, still giggling about something. Julius nods at me and then coolly opens the door and walks out.

What will Celia think if I volunteer to go into the Hunger Games? Will she feel pride in having a brother like me, or would she think I was being foolish?

And what if I die? Would she become emotional, or would she remain her heartless self?

Celia matters to me, even if she doesn't seem to care about me too much.

"Nero," my father places his hand on my shoulder, "Look at me."

I look upwards at my father who is staring directly down at me, with his cold, dark-brown eyes.

"Today's reaping day."

"Is it? I wasn't aware," I retort.

He grasps my shoulder with more strength, "And you're volunteering, correct?"

"That's correct," I pull my shoulder away from him.

"Good. You can't fail me."

I roll my eyes, "I'll try not to."

My father walks upstairs, ignoring my words to him. After he closes the door, my mother comes downstairs and starts to clean up all of the weapons and dummies.

"Would you like any help?"

She smirks, "Sure, Nero."

I grab the spear that my father threw on the ground and place it back on the rack. I can sense my mother staring at me and I tense up.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"Unfortunately, there is," she places the dummy's head down on a table and gestures for me to sit with her.

I sit on the edge of the table and my mother moves over to the other seat. I sit down next to her and she grabs my hand and rests her head on it. I can feel a few tears drip down onto my hand.

"I can't stop you, can I?" She whispers.

"No, mother, you can't. This is what I have to do."

"Can I at least try?"

"It would be pointless. I am volunteering and that is final," I take my other hand and wrap it around her.

"Take this," my mother takes a small box out of her pocket and places it in front of me.

I know exactly what is in this box – my father's coin. According to him, he found it in the arena on the ground. This is sentimental to him and I'm not sure he gave consent to give it to me.

"I can't," I push it back towards her.

"You can bring it back to us after you win."

_After I win,_ I think. _After I win._

I can't let myself think otherwise, but what if I don't? My parents would lose a child and my father would lose this token from his games.

I have to win, though, and now I must bring back his token as well.

I glance one last time at the dummies with an axe in one and the head of the other one ripped off.

What if something like this happens to me? I must kill a friend or even a boy who is almost dying.

I would have to kill them with no-questions-asked since they are risking my survival. But the question still recalls in my mind.

What if I can't kill?

* * *

**Olivine Keenan**

_De mauvais grain jamais bon pain._

* * *

_You're prettier than they are, Olivine._

_You're stronger than they are, Olivine._

_You're smarter than they are, Olivine._

_You're better than they are, Olivine._

_You're destined for great things, Olivine._

Once my father died, my mother had turned into a bitter, greedy, and immoral woman. She then turned her attention to me, her young daughter that showed potential. I have the potential to be perfect, that is. From there, she told me constantly how superior and beautiful I was compared to the other girls. My mother wants to mold me into a girl the daughter that she can be proud of and the daughter that she can use to her advantage.

And what can I say? It's what I have become.

I must admit; in District Two there are a good amount of attractive people, as well as strong and arrogant people. There are actually people who are better than me in something; it's absurd. And I won't allow it.

I know you can't be perfect in everything, but I can at least try. Trying won't hurt, will it?

Thus, I act flirtatiously around everyone, and then get them all to like me. After that, they're all easy to manipulate. They gave me all the attention I desire, which is nice for once.

But, I've always wondered, why is it so simple to attract attention to yourself?

I guess for me it's much easier than others. I'm beautiful, strong, sociable, and nearly as perfect as my mother wants me to be. But once I volunteer, I will transcend my mother's expectations of me. The Games are an easy way to become well-known throughout Panem, and plus, the victor receives all they could ever want in life.

I could use everything I have ever wanted in life.

Fashion, more artwork, more books, more training – all I could ever hope for.

Until I win, I must be content with what I currently have in District Two. If I may say so myself, I do have a lot here, but I want more. Much, much more.

And I won't stop until I fulfill my desires.

"Tell me more," Catie says.

"Don't mind if I do," I reply.

My friend, Catie, is a great listener. She will just sit there with her ears perked, listening to me. Whether she's pretending or not, I still enjoy her company. Catie doesn't speak much, which is not necessarily my type of person because she's basically the opposite of me. I do like her though since she is clever and always helps me to the best of her ability.

Catie passes me a bottle of substance, and I dip the brush into it. I hold out my hand in front of my face and begin to paint my fingers with this substance. I'm not too sure what it's called, but whatever it is, I'm grateful for it. Without it, my fingers would be atrocious and unattractive.

As I babble on about myself and my desires, I notice someone standing outside my window. It's Ashton, my so called 'boyfriend'. He waves his arms, gesturing for me to open up my window.

Ashton is one of my many boyfriends, but he's also one of my favorite boyfriends. For the past three years, Ashton and I have had an on-and-off relationship. Neither of us is madly love with each other, but that doesn't matter. Ashton's one of those typical boys from District – arrogant, cocky, charismatic, but dangerous at the same time – and he lusts nearly every girl in the District. It might be the same for me, but those other girls don't matter. I use him to my advantage; he does what I want whenever I want something, he listens to me talk, and we attract a lot of attention while we're together.

And attention is all I need.

"I'll be right back, Catie."

Catie nods and smiles sweetly. Once I leave my room, I can hear a sigh of relief. That must be Catie; she's been listening to me for nearly two hours. She's really a great friend, though; she stayed there the whole time and didn't complain once.

Only if everyone was like Catie.

My mother is standing at the bottom of the staircase, tapping her foot. She is wearing a bathrobe made of a fine silk, and if I had the chance, I would rip that off of her and take that for myself.

"Olivine."

"Amethyst."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Training."

"Don't make a fool of yourself."

With that, she disappears from my view.

I swing open my front door, and once I can see my front-yard, Ashton pops out from behind a bush and hugs me tightly. I wrap my arms around him, and push us forward onto the front-yard, making sure people can see us.

"I've missed you, Olivine," he purrs into my ear.

"Mhm," I whisper seductively.

"Now, what do you want to do today?"

I flip my hair to one side, exposing my chest, and shrug, "Training. Would you like to come?"

Ashton smirks and grabs a hold of my hand, "Let's go before it gets too crowded."

"If it's crowded, that means there will be more people. And more people is what I want, Ashton."

Ashton looks directly at my eyes for a quick second, and then continues gaping at my beauty. He rolls his shoulders and then cracks his neck.

As we get closer and closer to the Training Center, my hand drifts away from Ashton's. I have always felt some connection to the Training Center; probably because I am one of the best students that attend it.

From where I am, I can nearly smell the sweat, metal, and arrogance oozing from the Training Center. The Training Center is one of my favorite places in the District, especially when I'm in it. Then it becomes my favorite place.

"Good morning, Olivine."

The Peacekeeper opens the door for just me, and then lets it go when Ashton goes near it. Anyone who isn't mine in this District is jealous. It's all jealousy.

Everyone wants a piece of me, and I must comply.

Once I enter the Training Center, everyone's heads turn directly towards me. The boys' eyebrows perk up, while the girls mutter to each other.

"Hello, everyone. I have arrived."

Ashton wraps his arm around my waist from behind me and guides me towards the spear station. Ashton knows me too well; spears are my favorite weapon.

Spears are light in weight, easy to handle, and to be honest, appealing. The design of a spear is ingenious and very trendy. Only if spears came with a matching outfit to wear, then I'd be even more satisfied with them.

I grab one of the spears from the rack and angle my body towards the audience behind me. I wink at them and without aiming, launch the spear at the target. Glancing at the target, I notice where it hit – bullseye.

Ashton claps rather loudly, attracting even more attention. He's lovely, really; he always knows what I want and how he can give it to me.

I shimmy my shoulders and giggle, "Thank you, thank you."

I look around the room, seeing which area of the Training Center has the most people. I might as well make myself known here for the rest of my time in District Two. Then, after my volunteering, I won't need to purposely attract attention to myself. Everyone will be watching the Reapings, so I won't have to do too much.

A few boys are pointing at me from the wrestling station, but I can't go over there, even though they're obviously attracted to me. My mother always told me that weightlifting, wrestling, and hand-to-hand combat would make me have muscles, which would make me ugly.

Who would want to be ugly? Not me.

A television hangs on the wall, playing a video of the Eleventh Hunger Games. More specifically, the Chariot Rides.

I gape at the television, amazed by the Capitol people and their appearances.

Undoubtedly, the Capitol would be a much better place if I was there. I'd be a model and wear the fabulous clothes that the Capitol makes. I aspire to go there one day, for many, many reasons. One reason is to use the wide range of cosmetic products and to try on all of the clothes. Another reason is to get myself surgically altered to make myself fit it in the Capitol. One last reason, which is the most important to me, which I cannot wait for, is to have my Victor's Interview in the Capitol.

I can almost imagine the interviewer asking how I surpassed all of the tributes and came out on top.

"_So, Olivine, how do you feel about winning?"_

"_Wonderful. Truly wonderful. Now I have the reputation I deserve and I can only transcend from here."_

"_It seems impossible for a victor to be so pretty. How did the Capitol become so lucky?"_

"_You are lucky, aren't you? I guess District Two will be deprived of me and my beauty."_

"_I'm sure they can survive without you."_

"_I'm not too sure if they can."_

Cheers and claps erupt from the Training Center once the District Two tributes come onto the screen. They are wearing metallic costumes, which is something I'd love to get my hands on.

If they are this excited over this District Two victor, just wait and see how excited they get once they see me.

All of District Two will be ecstatic.

* * *

**Nero Recknor**

* * *

I push Julius to the side as I situate myself in the seventeen-year-old section. He returns with a punch to my stomach and then I grab his neck forcefully. Our skirmish is interrupted by the sound of the escort tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome, District Two, to the annual reaping. Let's get to it, then."

She walks over to the girl's bowl and puts her hand in quickly and then removes even faster. I guess she's not too interested in the female tribute.

The escort's nimble fingers open the piece of paper nimbly, while giggling when she sees the name she has picked.

"Breccia Weft."

There was complete silence for a second, and then the girl realized she was just reaped. She begins to walk forward, looking back at the girl's section, bespeaking a sense of desperation and fear. The girl who had just been reaped, Breccia, who is probably at least fifteen years old, stops at the front of the stage and turns to the girl's section one last time.

"Dear me!"

A high-pitched, yet charming, voice shatters the silence. A tall female, whose auburn hair complements her tanned skin and light-green eyes, struts to the center of aisle.

The female continues to walk gracefully to the stage, but stops where the girl is and twirls her hair with her finger. Breccia tenses up and pushes the girl's hand away.

"Your hair is a mess. Why would you want to look like this on reaping day? This is aired on national television."

The escort ignores the conversation between the two girls and claps her hands.

The escort puts the microphone to her mouth, "What's your name, girl?"

"Olivine Keenan."

The escort nods, "Lovely. Now, why don't we find out the lucky gentlemen who will represent District Two in the Hunger Games?"

The escort walks over to the boys' bowl and shoves her hand all the way down to the bottom of the bowl. The reaping becomes redundant in Career Districts, simply because there are usually volunteers. But it is a requirement, even though it's basically a waste of time.

I grip the token in the palm of my hand and bring it to my mouth.

This is for you, father. This is all for you.

* * *

**Olivine Keenan**

* * *

As I twirl my hair and wink at everyone who looks at me, the escort goes over towards the next bowl and shoves her hand down to the bottom. She moves her hand around the bowl for at least a minute and then picks a piece of paper out of it.

"Now to find out the lucky gentleman who will represent District Two," she squeals into the microphone.

Everyone in the crowd's head shift side-to-side, waiting in anticipation to see who the male tribute will be.

"Alto Gammot."

A small boy steps out of the twelve-year-old section hesitantly. The crowd goes silent, waiting for someone to volunteer. If this boy is actually my District partner, this year will be a joke.

As Alto comes closer to the stage, an arm extends from the eighteen-year-old section and grabs the boy's shoulder. The boy drops to his knees, raising his hands at whoever this new individual is.

"Don't mention it. Now get back in line," the boy mutters.

Alto scurries back into his section, covering his eyes with his hands. Nero looks back at Alto, and opens his mouth, but then shuts it and puts an emotionless expression on his face.

"I volunteer."

"What's your name, honey?"

"Nero Recknor."

Oh my; it seems we have a little challenge this year. This boy is the victor of the First Hunger Games son. That's interesting. I wonder if he's like him at all.

If he is, he will fall under my trap easily.

Watch out, Nero. You don't know what you just got yourself into.

* * *

**Nero Recknor**

* * *

My father strolls into the room with a smile upon his face. He bespeaks a sense of admiration, and for once, I feel that he is actually proud of me. My mother, on the other hand, saunters into the room with a desperate smile on her face. My last visitor from my family is my sister, who comes in and immediately punches me in the shoulder.

My parents' smiles convey how they genuinely feel towards my decision of volunteering; my father is proud while my mother is concerned.

"I won't miss you, Nero. At all," Celia jests.

I grab Celia and wrap my arm around her neck. She squeals and I rub my hand through her. She wraps her hands around my waist, embracing me for a hug me, which is a surprise. Celia has never acted this way; she's always been obnoxious and immature whenever she talks to me. She's different. She's different all because I volunteered.

How does volunteering affect people so much?

My father holds out his hand, "Come here, son."

I place my hand, "I won't disgrace you."

He pulls me in for a hug and my body falls forward. He wraps his arms around me tightly, barely letting me breathe. He pats my back several times and then lets me go.

"Nero," my mother whimpers.

I place both of my hands on her shoulders, "Don't worry, mother. I won't disgrace you either. "

"But-"

Without letting my mother finish, a Peacekeeper comes in and orders them to leave. As they are being pushed out of the room, I can hear my family saying 'Good luck', but the look in their eyes makes me feel like they don't mean it.

"You stole my spotlight, Nero. I wanted to build up the anticipation for when I volunteer next year."

Julius appears at the door, looking as if he had just gone running. He pants and walks towards me lethargically. He holds out his hand, and when I try to grab it, he pulls it away before I can even touch it.

"Too slow!" Julius exclaims.

I roll my eyes, "Next year, you will be calling yourself that when someone beats you to volunteering."

"Funny, Nero. You're such a comedian, you know that? A comedian who will attract sponsors."

I raise an eyebrow, "I can only hope."

Julius holds out a fist, "Don't worry about the Games. You got this in the bag."

I press my fist against his, "I'll see you in a few weeks, then."

The Peacekeeper taps on the door and points at Julius. Julius winks at me and smirks one last time, and then he leaves. I am left alone in the room; with only my thoughts.

_What if I can't attract sponsors?_

_What if I can't kill?_

_What if I don't win? _

* * *

**Olivine Keenan**

* * *

"Oh, Olivine, I am so proud of you!" My mother sobs.

She throws her arms around me, barely giving me any space to breathe. I try to wrap my arms around her, but she hugs me tighter and doesn't allow me to move my arms.

I rest my head on my mother's shoulders, "Proud will be an understatement soon."

My mother holds out a small box, "Remember what I have told you, Olivine. You're superior."

I grab the box from her hands, "I'm aware, and I will make sure to prove that."

I open the box and inside there is a small ring, but despite its size, it's luxurious and beautiful. I have many rings, but I will treasure this one much more than the others. This means something to me now.

Coincidentally, it's an amethyst ring.

What is she trying to prove?

My mother kisses me on the cheek and places on of her hands on my cheek. She pushes the hair out of my face and places her other hand on my other cheek.

"Thank you."

She winks, "Make sure to bring it back."

"I'll bring back much more than just this ring."

A Peacekeeper knocks on the door, and my mother leaves quickly. She probably didn't even comprehend my comment back to her, but I'm not surprised. She doesn't listen to me much, anyway.

Catie and Ashton then appear at the door. Both of them are crossing their arms and staring at me, but Catie has tears in her eyes and Ashton is only smiling.

"I'll miss you, Olivine. I really will," Catie grabs my hand.

"I'll see you in a few weeks, Catie."

Catie releases my hand, "I hope so."

Ashton pushes Catie to the side and throws his body on top of mine, causing me and him to fall on the couch behind him. He runs his hand through my hair and kisses me on the neck.

"I'll be thinking of you," he whispers into my ear.

"Don't miss me too much," I whisper into his hear.

Ashton gets off of me and we both stand up, immediately erupting into laughter because of Catie's facial expression.

I calm myself down and walk to the window. I stand there quietly, waiting for the two of them to say something. I blow on the window and begin drawing something with my finger. The room has gotten quiet, and we should really be talking, especially during a moment like this.

"You'll sponsor me, right?"

I wait for a response, but there is none. I turn around to see the door closed and the room empty. I sigh and lean against the window.

But, I can already answer my own question. Of course they'll sponsor me.

Who wouldn't want to sponsor me?

They have to, don't they? We're best friends.

Unless the feeling isn't mutual.


	4. District Three

**As you can see, I am updating much quicker than I used to. I am even proud of myself at this point. **

* * *

**Robin Sherrell**

_Il ne faut pas juger les gens sur la mine._

* * *

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

I jolt upwards and instinctively cover my hands over my ears, not allowing myself to listen to the galling sound of the alarm clock.

I raise my fist and bring it down forcefully on the alarm clocks. The beeping stops, but it still rings in my ears. I moan monotonously and flail my arms back and forth on the bed. I hear a knock on the door and wrap a pillow around my head attempting to conceal my noises and to make it sound like I am not in here.

"Robin! It's time to wake up!"

Perceiving the voice as my mothers, I throw a pillow at the door, making her to jump backwards and shut the door.

She knocks on the door, "You don't want to be late on Reaping Day."

"Go away, mother," I mutter, "I'm sleeping."

"I'm not dumb, Robin."

_Only if you were dumb, mother, and then we could be friends._

"You're speaking to me, aren't you? Now wake up and go get ready."

This time, she pounds her fist on the door several times. The constant knocks and screeches from my mother are becoming vexatious, and I get up, barely managing to walk a few steps. I sway back and forth and finally make it to the door. I lock the door and sit back down on my head.

"I'll be there shortly."

I grab the remote from my end table and turn the television on, even though the only thing the Capitol allows to be aired on the television is speeches from the President, previous Hunger Games, and news about your District.

They usually show a lot of Capitol propaganda, though.

The District Three emblem shows up and is stationary, but there is no noise or actual film to come after it. I stare at it for a few more minutes, waiting for something to happen.

"District Three: The Technology District."

I immediately grab the remote and turn the television off before the robotic voice can finish their sentence.

District Three: The Technology District.

It is also dubbed as the most intelligent District.

Panem is one of the most advanced nations in mankind's history, mostly due to the fact that District Three exists. District Three's computers, televisions, and other devices keep Panem all connected. District Three's electronic gadgets also keep Panem entertained.

The Capitol reveres District Three because of what its inhabitants are capable of.

Every day is the same for most of its inhabitants; go to work early in the morning, work for several hours under harsh conditions, come home only to sleep for a few hours, and then repeat this schedule over and over again.

A few occupations this place has to offer are: technical support, assembly operator, engineer, tester, technicians.

Yet, they all revolve around the same thing – intelligence.

A paragon of such a notion is District Three's first, and only, victor of the Ninth Hunger Games, Nora.

Nora was eighteen when she was reaped to go into the Games. She is a clever girl; a little too clever for her own good. Her condescending intelligence got her into a few arguments, but evidently, she was too good for her adversaries.

The arena of the Fifth Hunger Games was set in a mountainous area. There were twenty-four separate mountains, each with a tribute on the peak of it. Luckily, the tributes were donned in a wing suit. No tributes were aware of how to use a wing suit, but Nora figured it out quickly. Many tributes died from crashing into a mountain, the ground, or even each other. Nora, on the contrary, survived and made it to the Cornucopia.

Unfortunately, Nora's District partner collided with another tribute and ultimately did not survive. Fortunately for Nora, though, only ten tributes were alive after the flight towards the ground. Or anywhere, for that matter, depending on where the tributes wanted to land.

Nora was an arrogant female, always thinking she was much smarter and superior than everyone else. Nora could at least fulfill her words, unlike those arrogant Careers. She set up a trap, lured the Careers in, and then forced them to remain motionless in her net-type trap. She made sure to make it a spectacle. She would taunt the Careers; asking what their names are, how old they are, what their life back home was, and why they wanted to win. After they answered her, she simply scoffed at them and killed them.

Nora made District Three believe they had a chance. She made District Three believe that they could actually produce victors. She gave them hope, reason, and initiative.

Ironically, ever since Nora had claimed victory, District Three has only managed to produce one more victor.

That other District Three victor was Jericho, the victor of the Sixteenth Hunger Games.

The tributes from District Three tend to be extremely clever, are capable of creating and using electronics adroitly, and are overall very intelligent, but none of them have had these qualities to the same degree that Nora has.

The District Three tributes have been Bloodbaths; which are the tributes to die only a few minutes after the gong has sounded.

Take last year's Games for example. The arena seemingly endless badlands, which most would think is not in favor of District Three, but surprisingly, only one of the tributes from District Three perished in the Bloodbath. The female was frail and petite, and she was rather suitable for the Bloodbath, and her death essentially marked the start of the Games. A Career – the tributes who volunteer from Districts One, Two, and Four – killed her quickly and then that was that for the girl. But the male was different; he showed potential. He escaped the Bloodbath, but he only made until Day Four without getting detected. He was resting at a small oasis when the Careers came by. He instinctively rolled his body into the oasis, but that wouldn't even help him. The Careers surrounded him, and then took turns swinging at him with their swords, shooting their arrows at him, and beating him with their own bare hands.

It's ludicrous; the most intelligent District can't even outsmart other Districts.

In District Three, it's all the same. _Everyone _is the same.

And I relentlessly dissent with the similarities between each and every person.

I act differently purposely, only to prove my point that everyone is different.

Once in a while, when I come across a fatuous person, I will speak eloquently and with seem intelligent. But, when I find people that deem themselves intelligent and superior, I will purposely act asinine and inferior.

Others, such as my parents, Astor and Lara, don't agree with my act. They think everyone is similar for a reason, and that District Three is supposed to be intelligent. Perhaps they are correct, but it just doesn't make _sense_.

How is everyone content with being so similar? Is being unique taboo?

The Capitol is allowed to be unique, though. They convey individuality with their fashion sense, artwork, literature, and even through their symbolic creation – the Hunger Games.

I am not too fond of how they convey the Hunger Games, but the Capitol itself seems like a ravishing place. I'd much rather live in a place like the Capitol, with its extensive range of technology and inundating beauty.

But I know that's not plausible, unless I win the Hunger Games.

To supplement my differentiation even more, I'll say I adore the Hunger Games if anyone animadverts against it, but if someone says they adore the Hunger Games, I'll animadvert against it.

My mentality is an interesting cycle.

From an early age, I grew up in a wealthy family, never having to be forced to apply for tesserae or face poverty. Both of my parents were top scientists in a research facility, which put a burden over me to become such an esteemed occupation as I grew up.

Then, I began to realize how similar everyone was; some faced poverty, some were middle-class, and some were wealthy. Some were asinine, some were average, and some were intelligent.

You would never be remembered in this District; except if you're a victor.

Ever since the age of nine, I begin to develop and adapt to this personality. I chose to always be different in any situation and under any circumstances. It was difficult at first since I was bullied by the other children for being too different, but now most people can either handle me or just choose to ignore me completely.

Before I developed this new personality, I had one friend. We called each other 'best friends', but what happened shows how much that title meant and how much we meant to each other. Her name is Rosa, who is eighteen just like me, and she is an incredibly kind and young girl. She abandoned me when I began bullying other people. I even bullied her at times, but not as much and as severe compared to others. She meant something, but she doesn't anymore.

Rosa is just like everyone else; she's smart and gawky. The only thing that makes her different is her family. Eight years ago, during the Twelfth Hunger Games, her brother was reaped. Her brother was twelve at the time, and he showed no potential to become a victor. He was small, frail, and not too intelligent. His lack of intelligence came as a surprise to District Three, especially since he is from the Technology District.

Rosa's brother died in the Bloodbath, which wasn't a surprise, but it meant something to District Three. All of District Three went quiet when he died, and they all mourned his death afterwards. Seeing a tribute from your District, especially when they're young and weak, comes as a shock. When the boy's body came back to the District, it was cremated, and placed in Rosa's family's house.

There are a few people who can actually tolerate me, despite my personality, but for the most part, not too many people can tolerate me.

I can't tolerate their similarities, and they can't tolerate my differences.

No one understands why I act this way, and at times I don't either, but their interpretations of my actions and words don't matter to me. Even my parents don't comprehend why I do these things. My parents are always trying to persuade me to be normal, to get friends, to be happy, but they just don't understand. They are just like the rest of this District.

As long as I am happy, I am content.

I have never been my real self and have never acted genuinely; my real intelligence, kind mentality, and average looks are never shown. I must always do something to prove myself to be something that I am not.

I don't care if people regard me as an outcast. If there was someone who actually met my standards and was as different as myself, I would then talk to them. But, until that day, I will remain as an outcast. Compared to them, I am an outcast who is different.

The idea of being just like everyone else is ludicrous.

I will cause havoc, insult and belittle whoever I choose, and will act as foolish as I want just to prove that I am different.

Different is all I aspire to be. Different is all I want. Different is all I _need_.

_Different. Why is it so difficult to acquire such a title? _

* * *

**Kaelyn Taitrin**

_Tout est bien qui finit bien._

* * *

"No, you're doing it all wrong."

I snatch the electrical circuit out of the man's hand and place it gently down on the table. No wonder he's coming to my parents' electronic repair shop; he probably has no idea on how to work this either.

"What? I thought-"

"Well, you thought wrong. It goes blue-to-red, not red-to-blue."

"Where does the green go, then?"

"I'm getting to it."

I roll my eyes and grit my teeth. When he looks at me, I look up and smile, and keep my mouth shut. He chuckles and nods, probably thinking of something to say that would start a conversation.

I absolutely detest mistakes, and this man has definitely made several mistakes. I may be a tad persnickety, but if you want something done, then do it right.

I flip my hair over my shoulder, "And then the green goes to the white."

"Is that it?"

I wink, "You tell me."

I press the on switch and the small light-bulb on it immediately turns on. The man gasps in awe, and I cross my shoulders and smile triumphantly.

"Thank you," he says.

"Take my advice; don't try to do it yourself next time. You'll only mess it up _again_."

The man walks out of the store, a little too quickly if you ask me, without replying. He knows I am right, and he knows he shouldn't have touched it in the first place. People just never learn.

I turn around and begin working on another gadget, but then I hear the door open and close. I don't turn around and continue working on gadget. The gadget lights up, indicating I have fixed it, and I smile triumphantly once again.

"I should be doing something better than working here," I mumble.

"Kaelyn!"

My brother, Kieran, pushes me over with his hip and begins to disassemble the gadget I just repaired.

"I bet I can repair it less time than you can," he banters.

"You're on," I say, grabbing another gadget from the shelf.

We both get into position to start fixing and playing with the gadget, but my younger sister's giggle, Kristen, shatters the silence and distracts us.

"I want to do what you're doing, Kaelyn," she says, giggling.

"When you're older, Kristen. You might hurt yourself."

My sister, Kristen, looks up to me in a way. Which I don't disagree with; I think she should be like me – intelligent and clever – but she's way too young to be playing with these electronics.

My father, Drew, picks Kristen up in his arms and begins to spin in circles. She giggle becomes much louder and you can tell her stomach is hurting so much from laughing. My mother comes in and takes Kristen out of his arms and places her down on the floor.

"Sorry, Kaitlyn, didn't know that fun wasn't allowed here."

My mother glares at him, and he immediately puts an emotionless expression on his face, but you can tell he's holding back his laughter. She just rolls her eyes and walks over towards me and Kieran.

"It's Reaping day today."

Kieran and I nod in unison, look at each other, and then look back at our mother.

"I'm sure they know that already, Kaitlyn."

"It can be different this year, Drew."

"I'm sure Kaelyn or myself won't be reaped, mom," Kieran says.

"You know that I will always hope the best for the both of you, but…"

My mother trails off, and then walks over towards my dad and rests her head on his shoulder. Kristen isn't old enough to be eligible for the Games, but she knows that she will be one day. She clutches onto mom's hand and rests her head on her arm.

I would do anything for my family, and if I was reaped, I would most certainly try my hardest in the Games. I wouldn't be able to face the fact that I wouldn't return home, and that I would end up dead.

"But?"

She ignores my brother's comment, "None of you have to work today. So, go off and see your friends."

Kieran and I both walk out of the store, and only make it a few feet until our father hurries after us.

"Kaelyn, wait."

"Yes?"

"I was rummaging through the garbage can at the mayor's house, and I found a new gadget. Later, want to try it out?"

I smile, "Sure, dad. Later."

My brother nudges me in the stomach and we both walk together towards the place where most kids in District Three meet. It's a little alleyway where not too many people go into. Sometimes, illegal trading between citizens and Peacekeepers happen there, but for the most part, it's just a bunch of kids talking and hanging out.

"Are you scared for today?" Kieran asks, biting his lip.

I shrug, "Honestly, yes. I'm afraid to die, but I don't want to think about that."

Kieran nods and begins to twiddle his thumbs. I poke him in the cheek and he grins, and then pokes me in the cheek back.

The Peacekeeper building is ahead of us, and on the front of the building there is a large Capitol emblem incrusted on it. There is a smaller District Three symbol incrusted next to it, but definitely not equal in size to each other. It shows who is superior and inferior.

I think the fashion and make-up in the Capitol is to die for, but if I look at them as people and as a government, they are disgusting. The way they treat people, what they stand for, and what they do is horrible. They are the ones who created the Hunger Games, which is something I most certainly do not like. I hate the Hunger Games as a literal thing, but I also hate what they stand for. I wish they never existed, but there's nothing I can about them. So my deep-seeded hatred for the Capitol and the Hunger Games will keep me content.

On the other hand, I do like District Three. I like it a lot, actually. I am very proud of what they have become and what they are capable of. Although, I wish it was a little cleaner and a little nicer to live in, but I won't complain. I love the industry, which is technology and whatnot, and it makes me happy knowing that the industry fits my qualities. The technology has made become intelligent, and I can only get smarter from living in this District. Also, I wish that the District Three was a little wealthier, just so I could afford beauty products and stuff of that nature, but that doesn't matter to me that much.

"Finally, Kaelyn!"

I recognize the voice immediately. It's my friend, Virginia. She runs over to me and hugs me tightly. I wrap my arms around her as well and we hug for a few seconds without talking.

Virginia grabs my hand and begins to jog towards the alleyway, leaving Kieran by himself. He waves at me, and I wave back. He begins to walk the opposite way, probably going back to our parents' repair shop.

Virginia and I met when we were both five, and our friendship has grown ever since. We have become really close, and to be honest, we know everything about each other.

She leads me into the alleyway, and we both sit down next to the fire in the center of it. A few of us sit around the fire, rubbing our hands together above the fire occasionally.

Suddenly, someone's hands are over my eyes and I instinctively throw my body backwards. I fall on top of the person, and that's when I recognize who it is – Joseph.

I can always tell it's him just from his figure; especially his muscles and body shape. Joseph has always been a friend of mine, but the thing is, we both have feelings for each other. We know that a relationship or love isn't good if you're under the age of eighteen, only because if one of you are reaped, the relationship or love is over. We have never confessed our feelings to each other either, but both of us just know that there is something between us.

Everyone around us begins to laugh uncontrollably, and I flip my body over. Joseph and I lay on top of each other, staring into each other's eyes. We lay there for a few seconds, until we realize that there are other people around us. I roll off of his body and Virginia holds out her hand and helps me up.

"So," one of the older kids speaks up, "Today's Reaping day."

"No, really?" Joseph retorts.

The older kid rolls his eyes and rolls his shoulders. All of the kids here are silent, waiting for the speech that the older kid usually gives us before the actual Reaping. It's usually just a speech about if one of them were to be reaped; we'd remember them and have a memorial for them after their death.

"Quick, quiz!" Another kid adds, speaking in a very gleefully tone. "Who won the Eight Hunger Games?"

"District Two?"

"District Eleven?"

"Nora?"

"You're all wrong," I interrupt, speaking in a condescending tone, "It was Woof, from District Eight."

The kid who asked the question comes over to me and holds out his hand, and I smile triumphantly and smack his hand with mine. District Three might be the technology District, but some kids just haven't picked up on the whole intelligence thing just yet. I, on the other hand, am definitely one of the smarter kids in the District. For example, the kids who were answering before me didn't even know the victor of the Fifth Hunger Games. There has only been twenty Hunger Games so far, and it isn't hard to memorize the victors' names.

Virginia and Joseph are in the corner of the alleyway, and I begin to walk towards them, but as I pass a few kids on my way there, they begin to whisper and stare directly at me. I must admit, not everyone likes me in the District, but it's only because I am in fact smarter than them. I seriously don't know how that is a reason to hate someone. Some people say I can come off as rude or arrogant, but if you have the intelligence to back it up, then you have all right to be.

"Want to go home now, Kaelyn?" Joseph whispers into my ear.

"Sure," I coo.

"Good bye, Virginia!" Joseph waves his hand.

Before Virginia can reply to us, we walk out of the alleyway and begin walking towards my house. We walk in silence, not knowing what to say because the Reaping will begin shortly. A few Peacekeepers walk passed us and almost bump into Joseph, not even paying attention to our presence.

"Well, I have to go home now, Kaelyn. I have to go, you know, talk to my parents."

Joseph walks away, leaving me alone. I stand there silently, not sure if I want to go home or just sit down and cry.

_What if one of us gets reaped?_

* * *

**Robin Sherrell**

* * *

"…This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future."

As the video clip from the Capitol comes to an end, a clap erupts from the stage. Of course, it's the escort. This year, she seems much more Capitol-like and much more foolish than previous ones. She claps for a few more seconds, expecting for someone to clap with her, but no one else does. She stops clapping and fixes her skirt.

"Settle down, everyone. Now is the time to pick the lucky female tribute!"

She saunters over to the bowl on one side of the stage and hovers over it. She stares into the bowl, probably examining each card to see if they are all evenly cut or not. She blinks a few times and rubs her finger around the brim of the bowl. Finally, she puts her hand into the bowl and shakes her hand rapidly in in the bowl. One piece of paper flies out of the bowl and lands on the stage.

The whole crowd begins to laugh uncontrollably, and the escort blushes and bends down to pick it up. I remain quiet, staring at the audience.

Why laugh? One of the people's names who are laughing will be on that piece of paper.

She opens the piece of paper and fixes her skirt again. Her eyes widen and she giggles to herself. Either she knows the person on the piece of paper is or she just finds the Reaping humorous in general.

"This is such a beautiful name! It's a shame you'll be dead in a few weeks."

The crowd looks around, not knowing how to react to the escort's words. It goes silent again and the escort is quiet as well. The mayor coughs and the escort gets startled, snapping her head around and dropping the piece of paper again. She picks it up once more and opens her mouth to speak.

"Kaelyn Taitrin."

* * *

**Kaelyn Taitrin**

* * *

_No. This can't be happening. _

As I realize that everyone can see me in the District and even in the Capitol, I gulp and begin to sweat. I can't show any weakness, though, I have to keep strong.

I have to keep strong for my family. For my friends. For _me_.

I begin walking very slowly towards the stage, and a Peacekeeper puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me forward a little, making me walk faster.

"Come on now, Kaelyn, this is an honor!"

The escort puts her hand out and I push her hand out of the way and I walk up the stairs on my own. Once I get on the actual stage, I stand near the stairs where I am nowhere near the escort. The escort looks at me, narrows her eyes and waves her hand, gesturing for me to come and stand next to her, but I don't move.

The escort walks over towards the other bowl and unlike the other time when she chose my name chooses a piece of paper quickly. She opens it slowly, though, and makes sure to open it without ripping it.

Once she has it opened, she shimmies her shoulders and fixes her skirt again.

"The lucky gentleman to represent District Three in the Twentieth Hunger Games is…"

She pauses for a second, attempting to build up anticipation in the audience. No one gasps or anything, leaving the escort to blush again.

"Robin Sherrell."

A tall boy with pale skin and blonde hair steps into the aisle and begins walking towards the stage quickly. He laughs, but he is biting his lip and his eyes are blinking incessantly.

How could someone be laughing?

As he gets closer, I notice that he has green eyes. He is slim and has very little muscle. Robin and I make eye contact, and we both exchange smiles.

The escort grabs both of our shoulders and pushes us towards the center of the stage.

"May I introduce to you the tributes who will represent District Three in the Twentieth Hunger Games – Kaelyn Taitrin and Robin Sherrell!"

* * *

**Robin Sherrell**

* * *

"Take this, Robin."

My father and mother both have their hands on a locket. It's a small, and by the looks of it, inexpensive locket. My father puts his hand over my mothers and they both release the locket at the same time, letting it fall on the table in front of them.

I glance at my father, and he has tears forming in his eyes and when he notices me looking he frowns. I then look at my mother, who has tears dripping from her face already, but she is silent. She doesn't make eye contact with me and only stares at the locket.

I grab the locket from the table and clench my hand around it. It's cold in my hand and causes my hand to instinctively open again. I hold the locket in front of my face and hold the chain, letting it dangle. The chain glistens in the light, as well as the actual locket.

My mother pokes it with her fingers and giggles to herself. My father sighs and puts his arm around her. They both look at each other directly in the eyes and smirk to each other.

I open up the locket and inside there is a picture of me, my mother, and my mother. I was five years old, which was an age where I was the same as everyone else. I didn't act in the way I do today and I never even thought about the similarities between everyone.

I had a loving family, I had friends, and I had a nice childhood.

But that all changed.

Why would they give this to me anyways? What are they trying to prove?

"What's this?"

"It's us."

"Obviously," I roll my eyes.

My father sighs, "Please, Robin. Why can't you be normal for once?"

I throw the locket down on the table, "Normal?"

My mother picks it up quickly, "Please, Robin, takes this."

"No."

"Please," my father says.

"Fine."

They both smile and look at me, but I look away and stare out the window.

Nothing they say or do can change me.

_Nothing_.

* * *

**Kaelyn Taitrin**

* * *

"Kaelyn, I am so sorry."

My mother's words come out very faintly, and after she finishes her sentence, she begins bawling. My father consoles her and wraps his arms around her tightly.

Kristen clutches onto my hand, causing sweat to form in my palm. Kieran puts his hand on my shoulder and rests his head on top of mine. I wrap my arms around Kristen and Kieran tightly, never wanting to let them go.

I hold out my hand, gesturing for my parents to come into the group hug as well. They walk over, sulking into each other's arms.

We all hug for a few seconds, but then a Peacekeeper comes in and stands in front of the door.

"It's time."

My family lets go of me, except for Kristen. She stays there, clutching onto my hand, and my mother has to pry her off of me. She begins to cry extremely loud, and then the Peacekeeper shuts the door.

At least a minute later, Joseph and Virginia come into the room. They stand in front of me for a second, not talking to me or even looking at me.

Finally, Joseph holds out his hand. In his hand there is something wrapped up in cloth. I grab it out of his hand quickly and open it up. Inside the cloth, there is a purple hearty necklace. I open the cover of the necklace, and behind the cover is a picture of Joseph, Virginia, and me. The picture was taken last year near the borders of the District.

"Thank you," I manage to say, before bursting out into tears.

"We will always remember you, Kaelyn," Virginia says.

"Always," Joseph repeats.

"Even if I die?"

"Even if you die," Joseph and Virginia say in unison.

"You guys are the best," I say with a smile forming on my face.

"Good luck, Kaelyn."

_At this point, luck is all I can hope for. _


	5. District Four

**Adam Kent**

_Loin des yeux, loin du cœur. _

* * *

The boat engines roars, the sound echoing throughout my ears. The boat begins to navigate its way throughout the water, some of the water splashing up from the sea and spraying across my face. Since the waters are crowded today, the boat's automatic navigational system decides to take a detour. After a few more feet, and some more water being sprayed onto my face, the boat halts and floats, swaying back and forth. In view is the wealthy part of the District, where the people just below the status of a victor live.

I grab the binoculars off of the hook and put it over my face quickly. I blink a few times until the images of the houses are clear. The swaying of the boat moves me a few inches, and I grip the railing of the boat with my left hand. With the right hand, I hold the binoculars steady and zoom in on my location.

_Her_ house.

The large, and obviously expensive, house sits in its glory. The house's door, windows, landscape, and decorations represent who the house's owners are.

The Shaw family.

Then I see it; a glimpse of strawberry-blonde hair in the window. I zoom in even closer and steady myself in order to create a clear image.

_Gwen Shaw._

The beautiful eighteen year old struts passed the window, speaking into the phone that she's holding in one of her hands. I get turned on just from that smug grin of hers. She's selfish and self-centered, but none of that matters.

Only her love matters.

But that slipped out of my grasp, and it was all her parents' fault.

When I was sixteen, we had a steady relationship going, until her parents figured out who I was. They relentlessly berated me, saying that I didn't meet their standards – which consisted of their approval of someone's wealth, status, and appearance. Gwen finally caved in, broke up with me, and never spoke to me again. We occasionally made eye contact, but nothing else.

Not even one last kiss.

I was distraught for several months, not showing any emotion and being very impudent towards everyone. Gwen was the love of my life, and it was all taken away so quickly. It just doesn't seem fair.

I wish I could change it all. Gwen broke up with me because I was the son of a poor fisherman and a stay-at-home woman. I'm not sure why any of that matters, but to the Shaw family, it does.

All I want in life is to escape the poor side of the District, be with the girl I love, and live a life I actually enjoy.

"Are you done gawking at her yet?"

I clench my fist and hold it up in the air, letting my fist speak for me. The croaky chuckle in the background gets louder and louder, and when it sounds as if it is right behind me, it is silenced and then a hand is placed on my shoulder. Just by glancing at the hand, I know who it is just from the wrinkles and bitten nails.

It's Zachary.

Someone who genuinely cares about me.

Zachary cares for me in a father-son type of way. Zachary is the victor of the Fourth Hunger Games, but instead of living the Victor's Village, he chose to live on a small and quaint boat. Unfortunately, the games have taken a toll on him.

He was reaped for the games, and he wasn't sure what to think. The other Careers from District One, Two, and even his own District partner, wanted him in their alliance, but he didn't accept their offer. The Careers made it their goal to personally kill Zachary, and obviously it didn't work out like that. He allied with no one and hid, trying not to be detected. Once in the arena, he killed a total of three people: the male from District One, the male from District Five, and the male from District Nine. He made all of these kills by himself.

Once he actually won, he came back to District Four, and after a while he became to lose his sanity. He is scarred mentally and physically by the games.

But I can't do much for him. What's done is done.

Fortunately for me, though, Zachary offered me a job. If I were to work for him, without receiving much pay, he would train me for the games. Of course, I took the job, and over the years, I have appreciated Zachary over my own father Nathaniel.

My mother, Sara, and my father aren't the most reputable or wealthy in the District. They both miss me, but they know why I do the things I do and whatever they say cannot stop me. Growing up, we were a poor family, just getting by. I never had to apply for any tesserae, but we still never had the money to just spend on anything. Training is one thing we could never afford. And if I were to eventually volunteer to go into the games, I would need training. Luckily, Zachary came along with his offer, and I knew that this was what I had to.

Now that I am eighteen, and this is the last year that I am eligible to go into the Hunger Games, I must volunteer. I have had a good amount of training; I am disciplined, I am good with weaponry, and I am a great liar. Although I am weaker than most, afraid of heights, and lack survival skills, I know I can win the Hunger Games.

I just know it.

I also know why I need to win – for the love of my life: Gwen Shaw.

And there's no 'if', 'ands', or 'buts' about it. I _need _to win.

If I were to win, I could get all of the wealth and the status I need. I would be a respected victor. But not just any victor; I would be a victor that Gwen's father would be proud of and a victor that he would want his daughter to marry.

I know the Hunger Games will be a challenge, but it is a challenge I am willing to accept.

In all honesty, I don't have a real opinion on the Hunger Games. The games are a means to an end, and that's it. They don't mean that much to me, whether positively or negatively. I don't have a strong opinion on the Capitol either. They are there to do what they want to do, and the Districts can't do much about it.

District Four is one of the more privileged Districts. It's called a Career District, but the tributes that come from Four aren't as arrogant and bloodthirsty as tributes from One and Two. In the games, it is often overlooked.

The boat's engine roars again, and begins to drive towards the shore at a much quicker speed than before. I hang the binoculars back on the hook and sit down on the bench next to the hook. My medium length sandy blonde hair, which is usually a mess, blows in front of my face, and I move it away from my face and hold it back with my hand.

The boat gets closer to the shore, and Zachary stops it next to a small wooden walkway that extends at least twenty feet from the shore. Zachary never leaves this boat, and if he ever needs anything from the District, I get it for him. He doesn't even go too close to the shore. It's weird if you ask me, but I never question his decisions since he is a victor.

And victors are unpredictable.

One victor that was extremely unpredictable, and still is, is the male from District Two who won the Eleventh Hunger Games. I cannot recall his name, and I don't even know if he is still alive or dead. At first, he acted kind, funny, and amiable. He lured in the girl from District Seven, acted as if they were in a relationship, and then offered her to come into the Career alliance. During the interviews is when things all changed; he made a fool of her by pointing out her flaws and how gullible she was. His love for her was all a fraud, and she wanted revenge, but she never got revenge. She was killed quickly by the male from Two, and he didn't even hesitate to kill her and never even apologized.

Out of all of the games so far, this is the one I remember the most. It just spoke to me. Maybe the reason I remember it so well is because love was involved in it, even if it was fake all along.

I watch slowly on the boardwalk, pacing myself so that Gwen's house is still in my view. It eventually disappears from my view, and I continue walking, glancing at the other houses in her area.

The area where she lives in the District is gated, probably because they don't want any beggars or other people intruding on their personal space. The sidewalks aren't from made from cement, but I don't even know they are actually made from, there are light-posts throughout the area, and there are potted plants throughout the area as well. Their secluded area shows how separated the District really is; the wealthy live near each other, the middle-class live near each other, and then the poor live near each other. There never really is any interaction between the classes in District Four; who you are dictates what you do in life.

"Adam, I've been looking all around for you!"

Before I can respond, I feel a heavy weight land right on top of me and I barely manage to keep myself from not falling down. I catch the boy in my arms and push him off of me. A short boy with brown hair, and a pair of quirky glasses, stands next to me, fixing his hair after throwing himself on top of me.

"Nice to see you too, Desmond."

Feeling the bulge in my pocket, I grab it out of my pocket quickly to see if it's broken. I examine it closely, making sure there are no scratches or cracks on it. Luckily, it's still intact. On the day Gwen and I met, we went to the beach one day and lied in the sand, watching the clouds in the sky. Gwen spotted a beach shell that washed up and gave it to me. It was beautiful; it was cream colored and very delicate. Once she gave that to me, I fell in love with her even more.

Desmond Tanner and I have been friends for quite some time, and to be honest, I don't even know the exact amount of time we have been friends. Desmond is a longtime friend of mine that I met one day at a shop when I was ten. I dropped the items that I purchased, and he helped me pick them up. He was nine at the time, and as of now he is one year younger than me. Desmond is very sarcastic and often depressed, but I trust him a lot. I tell him all of my secrets, and he promises to not tell anyone no matter what.

Desmond doesn't really like my idea of volunteering. He thinks I'm being selfish and that I don't realize what could happen, but he just doesn't understand.

I'm a fighter and a lover. I'm determined, disciplined, and courageous. I have had a good amount of training, and I know what I'm doing with weapons. I just don't reveal myself; I want to save all of my skills for the games.

Nothing can stop me.

People will question, what drives this determination?

And I will respond immediately with the real reason.

Gwen Shaw.

* * *

**Mariel Seavey**

_Celui qui fuit de bonne heure peut combattre derechef._

* * *

The sand beneath me is warm, making me feel warmth throughout my body. The tide comes up to my feet, and then descends back into the sea. The sun is beating down on me and the breeze skims my body.

All of this makes me feel at home.

The sea is an ironic thing, isn't it?

It's beautiful, calming, and tranquil. But in a quick second, it can be ferocious and deadly.

Take it from me; the ocean can be extremely ferocious. When I was little, I almost drowned in the ocean. I swam out too far without any supervision, and then a giant wave was forming. I tried to escape, but it was useless. I kicked my feet faster and faster, doing anything I could to escape the water. Luckily, I got away from the water, but barely. After that incident, I decided to improve my swimming. I swam and swam, pushing myself harder just to do better. I have become obsessed with water, but I will never forget that day. I am one of the fastest swimmers in District Four and I can hold my breath for three minutes.

"Mariel! Mariel! Mariel!"

The sound of a voice comes from behind me. I turn around and see two small figures walking towards me. After they came a few steps closer, I realize who it is – my brothers Zack and Gil.

Zack and Gil are twins, which is obvious through their appearance and their personalities. Their reddish-brown hair and light blue eyes are comparable to mine, even if they're only twelve. They are rather tall compares to the other twelve-year olds in the District. Both of my brothers are normal children; curious, outgoing, and definitely fit for District Four's standards. They swim, love fishing, and are eligible to go into the Hunger Games.

"Daddy wants you," Zack smiles.

Gil punches Zack in the shoulder and then Zack tackles Gil to the ground. They begin to roll around in the stand and I leave before I get blamed for anything. I walk back towards my house, and I can still hear my two brothers yelling at each other and laughing.

Walking through District Four is always refreshing and interesting. I pass all of the fish markets, nautical item stores, and even the Training Centers.

I train occasionally, but I was never that interested in training for the Hunger Games. District Four's tributes are sometimes volunteers, but it seems that tributes from District Four don't volunteer as much as tributes from District One or District Two. For the most part, District Four always allies with One and Two in the Career alliance, but Four is usually overlooked and is usually seen as the weakest of the alliance.

"Mariel!"

Before even seeing the figure, I can tell who's calling my name – my father. I know a lot about my father, and I have figure most of it out by myself. I know how feels or what emotions he is conveying at times just from his facial expressions. I can figure people out just by staring at them. It's a good quality to have, since I can see right through people.

My father places both of his hands on my shoulders and shakes me back and forth. My father is a tall man with dark-brown hair and blue eyes. I shimmy my shoulders, gesturing for him to remove his hands off of me.

My father smirks, "Are you going to talk?"

In District Four, I am titled as an introvert. I might be an introvert, but I don't necessarily agree with that title. I only talk when I need to or if I am in the mood to. I don't always need to talk, and if I do, it only draws attention to myself. Whenever I do a friend, I am funny, sarcastic, and people say I'm a good friend to have since I am trustworthy. Even though me finding a friend is rare, I do enjoy having them whenever I do.

I know much more than I say.

I also have a hard time making friends because of this. The only person that I consider my best friend is Rikki Coast. She is golden-haired and a green-eyed girl who shares the same passions as me. I have known Rikki for most of my life.

My two brothers scurry towards us and my father grabs the two of them by their shirts. Zack and Gil laugh uncontrollably and my father just shakes his head. We have been recovering ever since the catastrophic event that happened to my family.

The death of my mother.

When I was little, my mother died from a disease. My brothers weren't born yet, so it was only me and my father. I'm not sure of the illness, but it doesn't matter me. All I need to know is that it killed her, leaving my family without a mother. I have taken the role of a mother; helping my father and brothers, doing chores, and doing other things that mother did for us.

My father begins to walk towards the District Square, and my brothers and I follow him. Today is reaping day; something that the whole District fears, even though we have volunteers. I don't plan on volunteering, since I know the Hunger Games are challenging, even if the gifts and reputation you get after winning are wonderful.

The Hunger Games are cruel and unnecessary. But that's only my opinion. I only trained occasionally just in case I was ever reaped, but that I am older, I train much more, since your name is in the reaping bowl more times when you get older.

Another thing that I have a strong opinion about is the Capitol. I think the Capitol is silly, but not harmful. I see it as a different world and everything there is just different. I do have an interest in the culture from the Capitol, though. The food, clothing, and art just seem so interesting.

The Capitol treats District Four well, but not as good as District One or District Two. District Four provides Panem with fish and other aquatic creatures. Even though I have never been to any other District, I would definitely pick District Four as my favorite and my preferred placed to live. I love the ocean and the sand, and I spend most of my time swimming or laying in the sun.

Zack and Gil go towards the District Square, and I begin to follow them, but then my father holds me back. He holds something that is wrapped in cloth in his hand.

"Mariel," he says, holding out the item in his hand.

I take the item out of my father's hand and hold it in mine. I look up at him, and he nods. I feel whatever is wrapped in the cloth with my thumb; it's hard, and on the top of it, I can feel a chain. I take off the cloth and once I see what's inside, I instantly think of my mother. It's a gold locket that my mother had always kept by her side. I open the locket up and inside there is a picture of me, my father, and my mother. Zack and Gil aren't in the photo because they weren't born yet, but I will always remember them as well.

"Thank you," I murmur.

"I hope you won't be reaped and I hope you don't plan on volunteering, but just in case."

Without me, my family wouldn't be able to survive. In all honesty, I wouldn't be able to survive either. They need me and I need them. My family hasn't always been the wealthiest or the poorest, so we are middle-class. We don't have enough money to just throw around, but there's enough. I find jobs around the District and give whatever money I make to the family. We have had to apply for tesserae several times, but we haven't had to do that in a while.

My father begins to walk towards the District Square, and I stand where I am for a minute or two. I dread the idea of being reaped, and I could never imagine going into the Hunger Games. As soon as the reaping begins, my future will be determined; whether I go into the Hunger Games or not, I know what I must do – act strong for my family and help them in any way I can.

I see one of the Capitol workers at a desk and I walk towards them. I stand at the end of line for that desk, staring at people around me. In front of me are my two brothers, unaware that I am standing behind them. I poke Zack and Gil on the shoulder at the same time and they flinch. Some seem arrogant – smiling at themselves, with their head raised high – and some seem modest – sulking, murmuring to themselves, and watching attentively.

On reaping day, all of District Four is required to go to the District Square. When children from the ages twelve to eighteen arrive, they must register themselves. One by one, the children go up to someone from the Capitol and then the person takes the children's finger. The capitol worker quickly pricks their finger with a needle, and then puts the blood into a ledger.

The girl in front of my brothers gets her finger pricked and she yelps. She sucks on her finger and walks towards the other kids. It is now my turn and I hesitantly move forward and begin staring at the woman. Zack holds out his hand and is pricked with the needle. He yelps as well, and Gil just laughs at him. A small scanner is passed over the blood, registering the information.

"SEAVEY, ZACK. 12/YO."

Gil steps forward and holds out his hand. He is pricked with the needle and yelps in pain. Zack points at Gil and begins to laugh.

"SEAVEY, GIL. 12/YO."

Gil punches Zack in the shoulder, and they both erupt into laughter. The two of them walk towards the male's twelve-year old section, and they look back at me after every few footsteps.

"Next," the woman says, holding out her hand.

I give her my hand and the feel of the woman's rubber gloves gives me the chills. She pricks my finger, and I bite down on my tongue, trying not to yelp or make any noise.

"SEAVEY, MARIEL. 17/YO.

The woman gestures for me to leave, and I comply. I begin to walk towards the female's seventeen-year old section, scanning the crowd to see if I can find someone I know. I situate myself at the edge of the female's seventeen-year old section purposely. I want to stay away from everyone because sometimes girls get vicious just to get to the stage first.

I just hope that I will not be involved in this reaping any more than I already am.

* * *

**Adam Kent**

* * *

Once I situate myself in the male's eighteen-year old section, I immediately look for Gwen Shaw in the female's eighteen-year old section. It only takes me a few seconds to spot her out, and there she is; basking in her beauty and perfection. She twirls her hair, puckers her lips, and talks to the other girls, without even noticing me staring at her.

The escort taps the microphone, causing the crowd to moan from the sound it makes. She wobbles on her two feet and can barely keep her balance because of her high-heeled shoes.

"Hello, District Four!"

The escort holds out the microphone, gesturing for the District to greet her. She narrows her eyebrows, frowns, and then pulls her arm back.

"Calm down, everyone, let's get down to business."

The escort wobbles over to the female's reaping bowl and dips her hand into the bowl. She grabs the first card her hand touches on the top of the pile.

"Lana Thames."

A shriek erupts from the female's twelve-year old section, and a brown-haired girl drops to her knees. Everyone moves out of the way, and two Peacekeepers pick the girl up in their arms and stand her up straight. The girl turns around and looks directly at two boys in the male's twelve-year old section, and attempts to smile at the two of them.

"I volunteer."

A soft, almost inaudible, voice comes from the female's seventeen-year old section. A petite red-haired girl steps into the aisle and walks forward, without making any more noise. Once she walks up the stairs and turns towards the crowd, I notice her deep ocean blue eyes and the freckles on her face.

"What's your name?"

The escort taps the girl on the shoulder, and the girl doesn't flinch or even respond to her. The escort rolls her eyes and taps the girl on the shoulder again.

"Excuse me, what is your name?"

"Mariel Seavey."

* * *

**Mariel Seavey**

* * *

_Do you realize what you have just done?_

I never planned on volunteering, but once I saw my brothers' friend reaped, I couldn't just stand there and watch a hopeless girl go into the Hunger Games. I had to do something, and that's what I did. I will do much better than a twelve-year old girl, and even if I don't become the victor, I know I have done a good deed for my family and for my District.

I stand directly behind the escort, not allowing anyone else to see myself besides the mayor and the Peacekeepers already on the stage. I shake incessantly, twiddle my thumbs, and bite my lip. The escort glances at me from over her shoulder and smirks to herself.

"Now let's see who will join Mariel!"

The escort walks over towards the male's reaping bowl and puts her hand in. She grabs the first card off of the top of the pile, much like she did when picking the female's name, and opens the piece of paper quickly.

"Caspian-"

Before the escort can finish saying the name, a boy begins to sprint towards the stage. The boy's sandy-blonde hair is disheveled, and blows in the wind, getting in his face. He has toned muscles and has a slender build. When he gets closer, I can notice his light-blue eyes and also a small scar under his chin.

"I volunteer to go into the Twentieth Hunger Games," the boy vociferates, exasperated.

The boy jumps onto the stage by pulling himself up from the front of the stage. The boy stands up straight and fixes his hair. The escort places her hand on his shoulder and walks with him to the microphone.

"What's your name?"

"Adam Kent."

Adam holds out his hand, and I place both of my hands behind my back and stare him directly in the eyes. He narrows his eyebrows and grins. He puts his hand out further and I hesitantly hold mine out. He shakes my hand quickly and after about five seconds, I pull my hand away and put it behind my back.

_Am I going to regret making this decision? _

* * *

**Adam Kent**

* * *

"Make us proud, Adam."

"We know you can do it."

My father and mother shower me with heartening comments, but I know words will do nothing. I need to put my words into actions, and win the games. All of this kinship is nice, but when it comes down to it, I am not volunteering for them. I am not even volunteering for Zachary.

I am volunteering for Gwen Shaw.

I know these games won't be a breeze and easy, but I have to try my hardest. I have to use all of my training and discipline to my advantage. This is my last chance to get Gwen to love me again.

I have to win the games; failure is not an option.

My parents leave and before the door even shuts behind them, Zachary appears in the doorway. He knows about my love for Gwen and my determination to win these games, but from the look on his face, he doesn't seem too thrilled with my decision.

Zachary nods, "I'll see you on the train."

I nod in return, and with that, he leaves the room. I know I'll see him on the train; Zachary and Mags are the only two victors from District Four. They mentor the tributes every year and try to do their best with them. Everyone wants to bring home a victor, and they have been let down several times.

This year, though, they will bring home a victor.

I look out the window and watch the boats soar through the waves. I begin to feel nostalgic, remembering all of the good times I have had in that ocean. The ocean is my home, but I can't go back now.

"Adam."

"Gwen."

Gwen giggles, "How'd you know it was me?"

I turn around and we make eye contact. Her beautiful eyes look directly at me and we both smile. She walks towards me and holds out her hand. I grab her hand and wrap both of my hands around hers.

"Oh, how I've missed this."

"Prove yourself worthy, Adam. It's the only way."

Without saying good-bye or letting me respond to her, she leaves the room and shuts the door behind her.

_This is all for you, Gwen. _

* * *

**Mariel Seavey**

* * *

My father and my two brothers come into the room and all of us immediately hug each other. It's silent, and you can only hear each of us breathing. Our grips on each other tighten and we all rest on our heads on each other's shoulders.

"Good luck, Mariel," my father says quietly.

Zack grabs my left hand and Gil grabs my right hand. They tug on it, pulling me down, and then I go on my knees. Both of them wrap their arms around my neck. I begin to cry and I rub my hand across my face, wiping the tears off of my face.

"I'll miss you, Mariel," Zack says, beginning to cry.

"Why did you do it, Mariel?" Gil asks, also beginning to cry.

"I did it because it was the right thing to do," I reply.

My father holds out his hand and I place my hand in his. He pulls me up and we hold each other's hands for a few more seconds. My father lets go, and then my brothers wrap their hands around his.

Someone knocks on the door and then it opens. Standing in the doorway is a Peacekeeper. He stands with a serious expression on his face and he is holding a baton in his hands.

"Time's up."

Zack and Gil's crying becomes louder and worse, and my father picks the two of them up in his arms. My father looks back one more time and smiles at me. I smile back at him and then he winks. The three of them leave the room, and I can still hear Zack and Gil crying.

"Mariel!"

Rikki stands in the doorway with her arms held out in front of her. Tears are already streaming down her face and she tries to wipe them away, but more tears begin to flow down her face.

Rikki runs towards me and we embrace each other. She begins to play with my hair, twirling it in a circular formation. We both begin to giggle because we're both unsure of what to say to each other.

"You have to come home, Mariel."

"I'll try."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

_Let's hope I can keep that promise._


	6. Train Rides

**Author's Note:** Oh, well, I'm back. As you can see, I'm not doing anymore Reapings. I'm going to continue with the Capitol with the POVs I already had planned, and you'll meet more tributes in the next few chapters. Only one of the tributes here have already been seen, but eh. Two months later I have updated; at least I'm updating, pfft.

* * *

**Kaelyn Taitrin  
District Three Female, 16 Years Old**

* * *

While standing at the Train Station, looking back at District Three, I realize that this might be the last time I'll see this place. All of my family, my friends, and even petty things like my gadgets. All of it could be gone, and chances are, they will be.

In this situation, I won't over-estimate myself. At times, I can be arrogant, but I realize how serious the Games are, and I can't let my arrogance lead to my downfall. Although I have my perks and talents, and even though they seem useless for the Games, I will still support myself. Who knows, the arena could supply me with wires and devices, and then I'd be golden.

But I can't put all my faith in hope, it usually leads to disappointment.

The next step in the process to the Capitol is the Train Rides. On the trains, the tributes actually meet their escort, mentor, and District partner. The trains will whisk us away to the Capitol, and I'm sure being on the train itself is a wonderful experience. I'd much rather be on a Capitol-produced train, rather than one of the lower quality trains in District Three. I've done my research and learned that these trains can travel up to 250 miles per hour.

I've never left District Three, not that we were ever allowed to leave, anyway. The rules here are very strict, and the Peacekeepers enforce them completely. We are not allowed to leave District Three at all, not even if you're a victor or the mayor.

The train pulls up quickly, its silver exterior shimmering in the sunlight. It suddenly stops, and my escort grabs my shoulder. She also grabs Robin's shoulder, and begins to usher us into the train. The doors in front of us open automatically, and Robin is the first one to step through, followed by our escort and then me.

I look back one last time, capturing this moment that might be my last in District Three.

I walk forward, and once I step into the train, the doors shut behind me. The train juts forward, but nothing on the train shakes. Panem's technology and what it's capable of is really interesting. No wonder the Capitol is so esteemed and glorified. I don't necessarily agree with the way the Capitol's citizens treat the Capitol, but they do have valid points.

Once I step into the actual train cart, my eyes widen and my jaw drops. Everything here is just so... _impressive._

Placed around the room are gorgeous floral arrangements, delectable foods, beverages of every flavor and color, and lush surroundings. There are crystal chandeliers that hang from the ceilings, there are silver candelabras on the mahogany tables, and there are fine glass dishes and metallic utensils.

The list goes on and on, and all of it continues to fascinate me.

All of this is so new to me, since I have never seen anything like this in District Three. The Capitol never decorates District Three with any of this and they never give any of this stuff to the citizens. The people of District Three probably couldn't afford any of this, anyway.

As we continue to travel, the scenery flies past us outside of the windows. I catch a glimpse of a forest, a lake, and even a ruined building. I wonder if you could ever pass another District or even a warzone from the Dark Days while you're on the train.

"Gather around, you intellects."

_Intellect?_

The escort gestures for us to come over, waving her arms in a circular motion over a couch with two seats. I glance at Robin, who quickly looks away from me and sits on the chair opposite of the couch that the escort pointed at. Shrugging, I stroll over towards the couch and sit down, fitting comfortably in the cushions.

"I'm Cyan. Please introduce yourselves."

The escort, Cyan, points to Robin first, who looks taken back by her action. He tilts his head and stares at Cyan, who just rolls her eyes and then points at me.

"I'm Kaelyn-"

"That's great, intellect-F. What about you, intellect-M?"

Robin crosses his arms over his chest, "Excuse me?"

Cyan sighs, "Let me repeat: Please introduce yourselves."

"My name is most certainly not 'intellect-M', whatever that means."

Cyan examines her nails, "You're from District Three, aren't you? And the 'F' is for female and the 'M' is for male."

I interrupt them, "So that automatically makes us intellects?"

Robin shakes his head, "I'm from the Technology District, silly."

"Formal, are you? I don't care what you call it, intellect-M."

Robin slouches down into the chair he is sitting in, letting his legs slump over the arm-rest and letting his head dangle off the side. Once again, he narrows his eyes and stares at Cyan.

What is he doing?

When Cyan tried to have a conversation with him, he got defensive, and when she answers the question Robin asked, he acted silly, and when she called him formal, he acted as if he had no manners.

Robin must not be a person who follows stereotypes.

With her dainty fingers, Cyan picks up a pastry from a platter and places it down on a plate gently. She cuts it up into several pieces and then backs away.

"Eat intellects. You're thinner than me, and I can't allow that."

After the mention of us being thin, Robin begins to binge eat, tasting and drinking every food and drink that is accessible to him. I hesitantly get up from the couch and walk over to the plate Cyan put down on the table. Swiftly, I grab the piece of food off of the plate and put it in my mouth. I back away, carefully watching Cyan and what she is about to do.

Suddenly, as I am backing up, someone grabs my shoulders. By the look of their hands, it's a male, and then I identify who it is – Jericho, one of the mentors of District Three. Nora probably isn't too far behind.

Jericho chuckles, "Watch where you're going, Kaelyn."

I back away from him, "I apologize."

Jericho, unlike Nora, is more of an average guy. Obviously, he was strong enough – intellectually and strength wise – to win the Games, but he isn't anything like the other victors. He's rather calm and reserved for most of the time, but I've heard a rumor that he lost someone in the Games that he had feelings for.

I could only imagine what this would do to him, since I would hate to lose anyone of my family or friends. They mean everything to me, and without them, what is there to clutch on to for support?

"Let's get to it, then," Nora says, "You two, allies?"

I look at Robin who looks at me back. He shakes his head side-to-side, gesturing that he does not want to be allies, and I shake my head up and down, gesturing that I do want to be allies.

Nora laughs, "Well?"

Robin tilts his head upwards, glaring at me in a condescending way, "With her?"

I scowl, "You don't even know me, Robin."

Without responding to me, Robin walks away and exits the train cart all of us are in. The room goes silence, except for Cyan's fingers tapping against the table. Nora and Jericho stare at each other, as if they are having a conversation through just eye-contact. I look at each of them individually, trying to see whether they will start a conversation with me or not. After none of them do, I decide to follow Robin, since I'm not sure where he went and I want to talk with him.

After I walk through the door, I enter a new cart, and this one has larger windows than the other one. This whole cart is windows without any furniture or anything of that nature. I peer out the window, capturing each patch of trees, water, and open-land that there are in my memory. I continue walking, passing through another door, and enter the chamber carts. Robin and I each have our own bedroom, including a bedroom, dressing room, private bathroom, and even our own Avox.

After I pass my own bedroom, Robin's bedroom door is only a few more feet ahead of me. I pace myself, trying not to make it sound like I'm coming, but trying not to walk too slowly to make me seem like some stalker. As I approach Robin's door, I try to plan out some things that I should say to him.

_Hello, Robin. Want to be allies?_

No, no. That's too straight-forward. I need something more casual.

I have always considered myself to be quite pleasant and nice, even though I have been called rude a few times. I just speak my mind, to be honest, and some people just can't handle the truth. Yes, I am very critical, but that's just who I am, and I don't judge people for who they are.

_Hi, Robin. I'm Kaelyn, from District Three and I think you and I should be allies. _

Obviously, he knows all of this. What am I thinking? If I just be myself, he will have no reason to hate me or have anything against me, and I see no flaws behind allying with me. I'm intelligent, quick on my feet, and have a charming personality.

Suddenly, the door in front of me opens, and Robin is standing in front of me. On his face is that same condescending look; his head titled upwards and him staring down at me.

"I can hear you mumbling to yourself."

I ignore his comment, "Hi, Robin."

"What do you want?"

"To be allies," I reply.

"Why would I ally with _you_?"

I smirk, "I know a lot more than you and this is a once in a life time chance."

Robin rolls his eyes, "It's a once in a life time chance? Obviously."

I sigh, "Yes or no, Robin. That's all I'm looking for."

If I could ally with Robin, my chances of survival would increase greatly. Everyone knows that working in numbers is better than working alone. And in the Games, you could use as many allies as possible, since you never know what could happen in there. An alliance between me and him wouldn't be too large, seeing as it is only us two, but it would still be helpful and it would definitely get both of us further in the Games.

A small smirk forms on Robin's face and he crosses his arms over his chest. "I'll think about it."

With that, he shuts the door, leaving me standing in the hallway alone. I raise my hand and make it a fist, intending to knock the door again, and then I lower it slowly. I shouldn't bother him about it, since if I do, he'd probably get annoyed with me and probably wouldn't want to ally with me.

I might seem desperate to him, and I might even consider myself desperate at this point, but I _need _an ally. Only if my friends were here, then they would ally with me. But, if they were here, one of us would have to die, so I guess it's better off that I am here with Robin.

The thoughts of my friends make me feel wheezy and unsure about myself. What if I don't return home? Will they miss me? Or will I just go down in history, infamously, just like the rest of the District Three tributes?

What if, when I die, no one cries for me? But they have to. I mean, why wouldn't they?

On the wall, the television screen turns on by itself, and begins to show the Reaping recaps. It starts with District One and then goes to District Two, and so on.

It's interesting; the Capitol knows how to distract the tributes when they're at their lowest point. They will do anything to distract the tributes from thinking about their death.

* * *

**Dresden Scott  
District Eleven Male, 13 Years Old**

* * *

On the screen, the District One Reapings are playing. The girl, on the other hand, is reaped. She's a nice looking girl and she looks like she could be a nice friend, but she would probably never talk to me. Her name is "Velour Versailles." She doesn't look too happy that she is reaped. The male – who could only be a few years older than me – volunteers and takes his place on the stage. He announces his name as "Cove Barley." Compared to Velour, Cove looks really happy.

The screen changes to District Two, where it is completely silent. The girl, whose name is Olivine Keenan, is a volunteer too. She looks like she could be a good friend as well, but she's too pretty. The male is different, though. He walks up with a serious look on his face and then announces his name as "Nero Recknor." District Two has two volunteers, while District One only had one.

District Three, like always, has no volunteers. A male is reaped, whose name is "Robin Sherrell." The girl's name is "Kaelyn Taitrin." The girl doesn't look too happy, but the male is laughing and blinking a lot. There isn't much to say about them, but maybe they would want to be my allies. Probably not, though, since they look a lot older than me.

In District Four, there are two volunteers. A young girl gets reaped, but then a red headed girl volunteers for her. She doesn't say her name at first, and when she does say it, she says it very slowly and quietly. The boy is more eager to volunteer, passing all of the other boys in the aisle. His name is "Adam Kent." They both look strong and very determined.

"See anyone you would want to ally, Dresden?"

Cama sneers, "What about those volunteers?"

I turn around, looking directly at Cama, "Why would they ally with me?"

"Exactly. If anything, they'd ally with me over you."

I'm not really sure what she means, but I can hear something mean in her voice. I don't know why she's like this, and one thing is for sure, and that is that I don't want to be friends with her. Cama has been complimenting herself ever since we got on the train and she is very full of herself.

Next on the screen is District Five. When the male, "Sinter Farwood," is reaped, he doesn't move. A Peacekeeper comes over to him and tries to take him, but Sinter punches him in the face. Sinter's hand punches the visor protecting the man's face, which obviously hurt by the look of his face. After that, Sinter walks up to the stage by himself. Once the girl is reaped, whose name is "Minx Hyede," she falls to the group in panic. She kicks and screams, and no Peacekeepers come over to her. A boy, however, does come over to her and shakes her by the shoulders. Maybe they're siblings, but I'm not sure. After the boy calms her down, two Peacekeepers pick Minx up and guide her to the stage. Minx looks a lot nicer than Sinter and maybe she would want to be my friend.

District Six also has two tributes that are reaped. The boy's name is "Harley Astaire" and the girl's name is "Ivonette Frost." Once the girl is called, she snaps out of her daze and walks confidently to the stage. She has an interesting outfit on, but there is something else about her that stands out. She's white, and I'm not being mean about it; she's literally white. Maybe she's albino, but I don't know a lot about that. The male just walks up to the stage with a smile on his face, and then takes his place on the stage. I don't think either of them would want to ally with me, since, compared to them, I'm young.

District Seven is different. Different compared to the last few years, that is. The girl, "Seer Brine," laughs hysterically and runs up to the stage. Even though she was reaped, she seems very excited and brave. When the male is called, his name being "Tobias Cress," no one moves for a few seconds. Then, Tobias steps into the aisle with a frown on his face. He walks forward hesitantly, but I don't know why he looks so scared; he's muscular, big, and looks strong. The girl, too, looks muscular and strong. I can tell that they wouldn't want to be my friends at all, and I am fine with that, since they look scary.

In District Eight, when the girl is reaped, she doesn't move for several seconds. Her name is "Quole Issa," and she is probably around my age, but is much smaller than me. Someone then nudges her and she stumbles forward. The boy, "Emmett Twill," walks up to the stage with a smile on his face. He seems confident, but he is also young, so I don't know what to say about him. Maybe Quole and Emmett would want to be my friends and maybe even allies.

The television switches to the District Nine reapings, where the escort is about to call the girl's name. The chosen girl is "Amelie Delaine," and once the girl realizes that she is reaped, and she is very fidgety and shaky while walking up to the stage. The male is then chosen, whose name is "Noah Miller." He is younger than me it seems, since he is smaller and by the looks of it, weaker. Noah is one of the tributes that stand out to me the most. I want to be his ally, and once we're in the Capitol, I will do anything to get him as my ally. He might be young, but it doesn't matter, since if we have an alliance, we will go further.

District Ten appears on the screen, and then the escort walks over to the Reaping bowls. The female, "Lyra Bane," stands there, without even moving and it looks like she isn't even breathing. The Peacekeepers drag her to the stage, with her thrashing and flailing in their arms. The male, whose name is "Asher Hadamik," walks up to the stage, constantly looking back towards the audience. Someone shouts, "Good Riddance!" I'm not sure where that came from and neither is Asher, since he stops in his place and turns back around. Two Peacekeepers then escort him onto the stage. Once Asher gets onto the stage, Lyra immediately pushes the Justice Building's doors open and runs into the building, crying loudly. District Ten is also another interesting District, but I wouldn't want any of them as my allies.

After District Ten comes District Eleven, which means the District that Cama and I are from. The neon-green adorned escort, Rubine, walks over to the girl's bowl. Rubine calls Cama Zale's name, adding emphasis as she says the surname. On the screen, once Cama realizes that it is her, she immediately struts into the aisle. She walks up to the stage, her head held up high and walking with a confident swagger. Then, my name is called; the words that I wish I never heard. On the television, as she says the name Dresden Scott, my knees buckle and I fall forward. The boys around me help me up, and then I walk forward hesitantly. I wasn't sure what to do or think, and by the obvious looks on my face, I was scared and terrified. Cama is already on the stage, and I meet her on the stage, her ignoring my hand-shake gestures. After that, Cama and I walk into the Justice Building, and then screen goes black.

District Twelve is the last District of the Reapings. The girl is called, and the escort pronounces her name – "Amara Dane" – very clearly. The girl walks straight past the other kids and Peacekeepers and takes her place on the stage. She ignores the escort, and then the male's name is called. "Caolan Harper," is what she says, and then she waits for a boy to walk forward. It takes several seconds for the boy to walk into the aisle. Finally, once everyone is looking at Caolan, he asks if he was reaped. He continues to ask stupid and obvious questions as he walks up to the stage, and I feel bad for him. He looks very scared and frightened. Maybe I should be his friend too; he looks like he could use one. Him and I could be allies, and then that would help the both of us.

Noah, the male from District Nine, Caolan, the male from District Twelve, and me, Dresden from District Eleven, will be an alliance. I will make sure of it, too, since alliances are good and helpful. I realize that not all of us can win, but if we stick together, maybe the Capitol will let all of us win. We will all hide out in the arena, kill if we need to, and then win.

Besides an alliance, I would also like to make some friends. I'm not looking for any deep friendships, just normal friendships. Friends are fun to have since they talk to you and you can talk to them. In the arena, your friends might not be your friends anymore, and that's why I have an alliance. So, if I have friends in the Capitol and allies in the arena, I'll be fine.

"So, I'll ask again: Did you see anyone interesting?"

My mentor asks us a question, and as he finishes up his words, he eyes Cama up-and-down. Cama turns her head slightly, glaring at him from the corner of her eye. My mentor then looks at me, and I just smile in return. Cama doesn't answer his question, so I think I should.

"The male from District Nine and the male from District Twelve," I reply.

My mentor, Grove, smirks, "I'll speak to their mentors about an alliance, then. What about you, Cama?"

Cama rolls her eyes, "Why would I need an alliance?"

Grove leans against the train cart wall and crosses his arms over his chest. He smiles, and then his face goes expressionless. I don't know what he's doing, but he looks angry. I hope he's not mad with me, since I didn't do anything, and I hate when people are mad at me.

Grove winks, "They're an important aspect of the Games."

Cama winks back, "Oh, really?"

"Really. You need someone to watch your back, Cama. Even you can die."

"I suppose. But the chances of that are low, compared to Dresden, anyway."

With the mention of my name, my ears perk up and I look over to Grove and Cama. They continue to bicker and say stuff about alliances, but I choose to not really listen. I begin to hum; pretending I am a bird of some sort, flying over the Districts. I hum softly, trying not to draw too much attention to myself.

I've always been told that I can sing well, and no, I'm not being arrogant like Cama. I can sing, but I just choose not to since some kids used to pick on me because of it. I don't know why they did because singing is nice and it helps me be happy. I know that singing won't come in handy in the arena, but it still makes me happy.

And if I'm happy, then life is good. And if life is good, then I am happy.

* * *

**Caolan Harper  
District Twelve Male, 15 Years Old**

* * *

"What's this?"

I ask this as I pick up a metallic object, that has a sharp point at the end and a sort of grip on the other hand. I place it back down on the edge of the table, and then I turn around, and hear something drop. Without looking back, I go to a counter near the small kitchen in the train cart. I pick up a piece of food, and from the smell of it, I can smell flowers.

"What's this?"

I take a small bite out of it, and I gag in disgust. That was not as good as I thought it would be, and I reach for another piece of food, but then something catches my eye. It's a glass bottle with a pink liquid in it. I walk over to the glass bottle, pick it up, and remove the cap of it. I bring the bottle to my nose, the scent of more flowers attracting me.

Suddenly, a hand reaches out and grabs the bottle away from me. I squeal, and another hand is placed on my shoulder. My eyes widen and I tense up, the touch of someone grabbing me is uncomfortable. I try to nibble at the hand, and whoever it is removes their hand and turns me around.

"Who's this?"

The man in front of me smiles, "I'm your mentor, Caolan."

He puts his hand out in front of him, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I poke his hand several times until he moves it away. He laughs and then sits down on the couch next to him. The man waves me over and I sit a few feet away from him on the floor.

I smile, "I'm Caolan."

"I know," he says, "My name is Arthur."

I wave, "Hi, Arthur."

"And what is your name, miss?"

My mentor, Arthur, looks at Amara, my District partner. She is sitting on a seat at the table eating, and when she hears her name is called, she turns around quickly. I wave at her, and we make eye contact, and all she does is roll her eyes and ignore me.

"Amara," she says, "Amara Dane."

Arthur nods, "Nice to meet you, Amara."

Before anyone else can say anything, our escort, Cressa, struts through the door. She is screaming loudly and flailing her arms. Arthur goes up to her and tries to calm her down, but she continues to scream. I hope she's okay, since if she isn't, she might blow the train up in frustration. And if the train blows up, I die, and I don't want to die. Amara can die because she's mean, though. Arthur can live, but Cressa can't; she's too loud.

Arthur runs his hand along her cheek, "Are you okay?"

"No!" Cress screams. "Everything is not okay!"

"Did something happen?"

"The train," Cressa says, beginning to breathe heavily and sobbing, "does not have saffron-scented perfume!"

Arthur lets go of Cressa, laughs, and sits back down on the couch. I wonder what perfume is, and I hope it's not medicine or anything. If the train doesn't have her medicine, I wonder how she will live. Perfume is a funny word, too, so maybe it's something funny. Or it could be a type of food! I want to taste perfume!

"Does anyone have any perfume I can taste?"

Amara laughs hysterically, "What?"

I point at Amara, "Do you have any perfume? Give me it!"

"No," she replies, "I don't have any perfume, Caolan."

Groaning, I shrug and stick out my tongue. I wish she had some perfume, I bet it's a nice tasting thing. I lean against the couch next to me and my body falls forward. My hand hits the end table next to it and I yelp in pain. Arthur looks at me, points at my finger, and gestures for me to raise it. I hold my hand up in the air and he just stares at it.

"What happened?" He asks.

"With what?" I ask back.

"Your finger."

Looking at my hands, I notice the five fingers on my left hand and only four fingers on my right. One day, I was cutting something, even though my mommy told me not to, and cut off my finger. It was bleeding a lot and I wasn't sure what to do with my finger, so I just threw it away. When my parents saw my finger, they screamed and they fixed it. I was all okay after they fixed it, but now I don't have a fifth finger.

"I cut it off!" I exclaim.

Amara bursts out laughing again, "What is this kid's problem?"

"What kid?" I ask her.

Amara turns back around and continues to eat the food that is on her plate. Arthur and Cressa go into another train cart, leaving me alone on the floor. I jut my legs and arms out on the floor, and begin to move them in a clock-formation. The end table knocks over, falling onto the ground with a loud bang and the clang of metal against the ground. The sound of loud bangs and Amara's laughter reminds me of my friend Lena.

Lena is a girl, who is only thirteen years old. She is very funny and we used to laugh a lot together. She would poke my nose, and I would poke her eye, and then she would poke my stomach, and I would poke her head. Lena was the best, and I wish she was here with me now, but I only have Amara. I miss her a lot, but I shouldn't worry about that because I will see Lena soon.

"I don't want you here; I want Lena."

Amara tilts her head back, "What?"

I smile, "I want you to leave."

She smiles back, "I can't just leave, Caolan."

"Please?"

"I still can't just leave. It's not that simple."

"But I said please!" I shout.

Amara ignores me again and continues to eat. I stand up and feel something sharp poke my thigh. As I shove my hand in my pants' pocket, something sharp pokes my finger. I remove the thing that is in my pocket and realize that it is the piece of coal that I picked up off of the streets. It looked nice, and when I walked past it on the way to the Train Station, I picked it up.

The glint of metal distracts me, and I put the piece of coal back in my pocket. It's a knife, as the escort called it, and it is sharp. It's sharp just like my piece of coal, but it's a lot sharper. I could probably make someone bleed with this. I poke the knife with my finger, and the cold metallic texture of the knife gives me the chills. Gripping it in my hand, I begin to swing it around. Arthur and Cressa are still not in here, but Amara still is.

I walk over to Amara, raising the knife slowly as I take every footstep. I heard something about training with weapons, and a knife is a weapon, so maybe they meant that I should train now. I could train with Amara; she is strong and would be cool to train with. Now, I am behind Amara, and as soon as I am about to bring it down on Amara's head, someone grabs the knife out of my hands.

Cressa shrieks, "What are you doing?"

"You said I have to train!"

Cressa blinks rapidly, "Not now!"

"I have to kill too!"

Cressa drops the knife out of her hands, "Once again, not now."

I gasp, "Are you trying to trick me?"

"Trick you?" Cressa looks confused.

I point my finger at her, "You want to win the Games for yourself! That's why you're not letting me kill her; you want to kill us both!"

Cressa steps back a few steps, "What are you saying?"

"You're a liar! Arthur, Arthur! Cressa is a liar and wants to kill me and Amara!"

Arthur appears in the doorway, and once he sees the knife on the ground, he runs over to us. He puts his hand in front of Cressa and picks the knife up. As he places the knife on the table, Amara gets up from her seat. She hasn't been looking at any of this, but she knows what I was about to do.

Amara pats my head and whispers into my ear, "Maybe I want to kill you, Caolan."

"No!" I scream. "You all want to kill me!"

Arthur chuckles, "I don't."

I open my mouth to say something, but the sound of screaming people and flashing lights distracts me. I run over to the window, and Amara follows me, and I press my face up against the glass. All of the people that I am passing are dressed in weird colors and don't look anything like the people back in District Twelve.

"Are those real people?"

The train comes to a short stop, and I fall onto Amara. She pushes me back, still looking out the window at the people. She begins to wave at everyone, but then she stops. She clenches her fists and stomps back over to the table. I throw my hands up in the air, screaming random things, and begin to wave my hands crazily. The people outside narrow their eyes and continue to scream and wave at me.

Cressa waves me and Amara over, "We're here, children!"

Amara and I walk over to Cressa, and once we're near her, she grabs both of us by the shoulders. We wait in a small space until the door opens in front of us. Cressa lets go of our shoulders and she is the first one to walk out. I smell flowers again and that's what attracts me. I walk out the door, still smelling flowers. Once I step out of the train, the screaming gets louder and I look around me and notice all of the people that are there.

I bet they are trying to win the Games too. Maybe they want to kill me too just like Cressa and Amara. I can't let them kill me, though, and I have to kill them first. I will win the Games; only after I kill all of these people, though. This is going to take a lot of knives.

"Hello! I am Caolan from District Twelve! And I have come to kill all of you so I can win!"


	7. Chariot Rides

**Author's Note:** Who's excited for the Chariot Rides? Teddy is! I separated this into three sections: Meeting their escort and prep team, the Chariot Ride preparations, and then the actual Chariot Rides.

* * *

**Noah Miller  
District Nine Male, 12 Years Old**

* * *

I swing my legs back and forth, my heels hitting against the bottom of the metal chair. The tapping of my fingers against the chair nearly mesmerizes, distracting me from noticing anything else, except for the glaring lights above me. The lights are hanging from the ceiling, beating on me and my District partner, Amelie. I look over to Amelie, and once we make eye contact, she quickly looks away and bites one of her nails.

I'm not really sure what we're doing in this small room, but I think we're meeting someone very soon. Maybe we're meeting the people who design our clothes for the chariot rides and interviews. Just from walking to this building I've seen a lot of Capitol people. They wear really weird clothes with a lot of different colors and shapes on them. I wouldn't want to wear anything like that because it looks too heavy and uncomfortable.

My eyes begin to wander, looking from each corner of the room and then back to the middle of the room. The room is made of all metal, and there is a door a few feet in front of my chair and another door a few feet in front of Amelie's chair. Amelie is still biting her nails and is very fidgety in her chair. I wonder if she's thinking about who we are going to meet, or maybe what the other tributes will be like. She seems nice too, so maybe she'll want to talk to me.

"Hi," I say, smiling widely.

Amelie looks at me, stares at me for a few seconds, and then looks at the ground. I wait a few seconds until speaking again, seeing if she will reply eventually, but she doesn't. She sits in her seat, trying not to pay attention to me, so maybe she doesn't want to talk. I won't give up that easily, though; it looks like she could use a friend.

"Do you pronounce your name 'Ameli-a' or 'Ameli-eh'?"

"It's just Amelie," she murmurs, still looking at the ground.

"I like your name, Amelie."

Amelie nods shakily, and she finally looks up at me. "I like your name too, Noah."

"Thank you," I say. "So, what are you thinking about right now?"

Amelie raises her eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

I lean my head back against the wall and shrug. "What's on your mind?"

Amelie smirks, "Life."

"What about it?"

"I'm just trying to take in the Capitol and its people."

I hear Amelie giggle, and then she completely stops and goes silent. She turns her body towards me and I turn my body towards her in the chair. We both smile at each other, and then I open my mouth to speak, but close it quickly.

"What's on your mind, Noah?"

I stick out my tongue, "You are."

Amelie leans her elbow on the arm-rest and places her head on her hand. Her dark blonde hair is to the side of her head, and she plays with a few strands of it.

"Is that so?"

I nod, pointing to her, "Yes. How old are you?"

Amelie tilts her head to the side, "I'm sixteen. And how old are you, Mister Miller?"

I smile at the thought of my age, and get a little excited. "I just turned twelve a few days ago!"

"Did you get anything special for your birthday?"

Before I can answer, the door in between our chairs opens, and a few people shuffle into the room. My mentor and escort are two of the people, but there are more than that. Standing in front of the door of Amelie's side of the room is a woman and two other women behind her. All of them have rose-dyed skin and are wearing bright magenta clothes. On my side of the room, there is a man standing in front of the door with two men behind him. All of them have sky blue-dyed skin and are wearing aqua clothes.

My mentor, Lichen, kneels down in between me and Amelie. I bring my head closer to her and so does Amelie. Lichen wraps her arms around both of us and I can hear my escort sigh behind her.

"One of you gets the males and one of you gets the females. Any preferences?"

"I would prefer to have the females. Do you care, Noah?"

I shake my head, gesturing that I don't care whether I have the males or the females. I turn my head to look at all of the men standing in front of my door, and they all whisper to each other. The one in the center, who is standing a few inches ahead of the others, walks over towards me and holds out his hand. I grab ahold of his hand and he helps me out of my chair.

We are about to enter the doors, but someone's hand grabs my arm. I look to see whose hand it is, and I realize that it's Amelie's. She kneels down, her head being the same height as mine is now, and she embraces me in a hug.

"Happy belated birthday, Noah."

I wrap my arms around her tighter and rest my head on her shoulder. "Thank you so much, Amelie."

Amelie and I let go of each other, and both of us are directed into the two separate doors. Inside of the room, the lights are off and it is extremely dark. I am standing behind the three men, and then one them turns the lights on. In front of us is a bed-type thing that has a small cushion on top of it. There are two seats in the corners of the room, and two of the men sit down in it.

The one man who is still standing extends his arms outwards, and picks me up from under the armpits. He places me down on top of the cushion and looks back at the two other men. He has a clipboard with a few pieces of paper on it, and so do the two other men. They all flip through the pages on it, and I really want to know what's on those papers.

The man holds out his hand, "Hello. My name is Bruno."

"Hi, Bruno," I reply, and then point to the other two men in the room. "What are their names?"

The one in the right hand corner of the room says his name is "Fabio" and the other's name is "Dino." All three of them have interesting names, and I have never heard of such names, even in District Nine. Even Amelie's name is interesting and something I haven't heard before. I've heard of a few Noah's in District Nine, so my name isn't that rare.

"I'm your stylist, as you should already know-"

I interrupt him, "My what?"

"Your stylist?" He replies, tapping his finger against the clipboard.

"What does that mean?"

Bruno chuckles, "Your stylist. It means that I design all of your clothes from now until the arena. I'll be with you for a while, Noah, so be prepared to see me a lot throughout the next few days."

I nod, and he continues talking. "Just one question: Do you like wearing clothes?"

I tilt my head back, thinking deeply about his question. "If you're asking if I like being nude, the answer is no."

Fabio and Dino burst out laughing, but they are quickly shushed by Bruno. He sits down next to me on the table that I am sitting on and shows me a few outfits that he has on the pages.

Bruno smirks, "Never-mind. Anyway, do you like any of these?"

"I like that one!" I exclaim, pointing to one of the pictures. "No, no, no! That one!"

I point to several different ones, all of them looking unique and comfortable. Bruno looks at Fabio and Dino, nods his head, and the two of them exit the room, shutting the door behind them. Bruno holds up one final photo of an outfit, raises his eyebrow and I smile.

"I'm sure Amelie will like this one too," he says, placing the clipboard down on his lap.

"I hope so. This outfit will be my birthday present to her in return for the one she gave me."

Bruno smiles, "What did she get you, Noah?"

"Her friendship."

* * *

**Sinter Farwood  
District Five Male, 16 Years Old**

* * *

The wall is covered by shelves and shelves with an array of colorful lotions, shampoos, conditioners, and every other beauty product thinkable to man-kind. All of it is arranged by color, the lighter shades on the right and the darker shades on the left. In the center of the shelves, there is a small computer of some sorts, and I assume whenever you press a button, it brings you whatever you chose.

I lay back, my head getting dipped into a bucket of water and bubbles. The bubbles smell of vanilla and strawberries, and I almost feel relaxed by the warmth of the water and the scent. I'm not used to being this relaxed and calm, not like in District Five, anyway. I was always busy with my thoughts and preoccupied with working, I never had time to be myself and to calm down. It's so refreshing.

They call this building the Remake Center, and now I know why. They 'remake' us, making us presentable to the Capitol. Standards of care aren't as high in District Five, and I barely bathed or cared about what I wore or looked like. I'm not saying I am not excited about being bathed or cleaned-up, but I don't know how I feel about all of this attention on me. It will only get worse during the actual chariot rides, though, where every citizen of the Capitol and the Districts will be watching us.

My stylist and my prep team remove the paper robe that is on me, exposing my body to all of them. They don't seem too uncomfortable with seeing my body, since they have probably seen a bunch of tributes' bodies in the previous years. I don't know how I feel about it, though, but I can't do anything against it. I lay there, relaxing my muscles and close my eyes.

They begin to spray water all over my body, and begin to rub different scented soaps on me. Then, they begin to scrub me down, washing away all of the grime and dirt. They are scrubbing thoroughly, and even though it is a little comfortable, I am not hurt by the pain. I'm used to this pain to a certain degree, and at the thought of this, I glance at my upper-arms, where there are scars. They're small and barely noticeable, but I'm sure the prep team will notice such a thing. Self-harm isn't something I endorse, but if you have to do it, you should conceal it a little.

Once they notice my scars, though, they all stare at them in awe. They murmur to each other about how ridiculous the scars look, why anyone would do that to their skin, and how they are going to hide them. They rush over with another bottle of some liquid, or I think it's a liquid, and rub it all over my scars. In the matter of the seconds, the scars begin to disappear, and all of the prep team smiles at themselves. My hair is washed too, and it relaxes me even more. They continue to wash my body, scrub it, and lather it with more water and soap.

Next, they begin to hand dry my body, with the help of blow-dryers too. Out of everything so far, this is the most relaxing. The softness of the towels and the breeze of the blow-dryers make me feel as if I'm on an island sunbathing under a hot sun, a gentle breeze blowing against my face. Once they are done drying my body, they turn of all of the blow-dryers and put the towels down, and then roll over a cart full of more beauty products.

Two of the prep-team members grab one of my hands, and begin to scrub them down and clip my nails. I guess a pedicure and manicure is necessary; the little details count. Also, they burnish my skin with exfoliating foam and moisturize my skin. They untangle, brush, and comb my hair, and I can immediately feel the effects of nice and formal hair. To my astonishment, they roll over another cart, and this one has scissors, razors, waxing-materials, as well as other things.

Why would they need to shave off anything? For any tribute, not just me, all of their hair would be under their clothes.

Without asking me for my consent or permission, they begin to wax all of my hair off. When I say all of it, I mean it. Except for my hair on the top of my head, of course, but everything else is either being shaved, waxed, or cut off. After a while of me dazing off, being mesmerized by the array of colors on the wall, all of the prep team finally steps back.

They all stare at my body, smiling to themselves and whispering to each other. I guess I meet the Capitol's standards now. When I try to get up, one of the prep team places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me down a little bit. They examine my body one last time, checking over to see if they missed anything or if they want to redo something. After a few more minutes of them checking again, one of them hands me a paper robe. They gesture for me to put it on, and I comply, standing up off of the table, and put the robe on.

"Your stylist will be in shortly."

In unison, all of the prep team exits the room, leaving me alone. I stare pensively at the shelves that have the colorful beauty products, thinking about the prep team and my stylists. All Capitol people are superior, well, that's what the Capitol's Peacekeepers and officials in District Five tell us, anyway. Until I got here, I thought the Capitol was full of beauty, peace, and luxury, but something about it has altered my opinion. The Capitol inaugurated the Hunger Games, and I am deeply afraid of those, but oddly enough, I respect them. And like the teachers in District Five used to say: "The Capitol knows best."

I even respect the citizens of the Capitol, but to a lesser degree. I mean, despite my prep team's ditzy and ignorant mentality, they are nice people. For what it's worth, anyway. They don't do much for me, except make me look presentable and raise me to meet the Capitol's standards, so I don't believe they deserve much from me. I comply with their demands, don't speak to them – not like I speak much, anyway, since whenever I speak it has purpose, and me talking to these people isn't necessary – and don't bicker with them. How deceived and educated they are about the Districts does irk me, though. They ridiculed the Districts earlier, and I sat there in silence listening to them. They don't know what it's like in the Districts or how people are treated, yet they keep talking.

How narrow-minded could you be?

Call me opinionated, sure, but I have reasoning. In my head, I have all of these thoughts, judgments, critiques, even praise at times, but there is logic supporting my opinions. I'm not one of those mindless people who judge from first-looks, or one of those people who voice their opinions, and when you ask to justify them, they become submissive. I get offended whenever people disagree with me, not because I believe my opinions are superior and I am by no-means a bigot. Whenever someone disagrees with me, it makes me feel doubtful about myself. Confidence can only go so far, and when there is more than one person disagreeing with me, I begin to alter my opinions. Besides, we're all entitled to our own opinions, so I don't think too highly of myself.

However, it does become stressful, I suppose, at times. Listening to all of these opinions that people have and what they believe makes me feel so ambivalent. You never know who to believe, who to listen to, or who to trust. To alleviate my personal issues gravity on me, I resort to self-harm. I usually only perform minor things, never anything life-threatening or major.

The sound of the door sliding open snaps me out of my daze, and my stylist appears in the doorway. My stylist, Felix, is interesting, to say the least. I feel like he has the urge to shoot me down whenever he has a chance, and he always loves an argument. I tend to ignore his verbal jabs at me, but it really does hurt at times. My sensitivity is nothing to joke around with, especially not by someone who comes from the Capitol. They are more significant than anyone else, which means their words have a greater gravity than anyone else's.

"Let's get to work, shall we?"

I nod, preparing myself for whatever he has planned for me. I balance my body on my feet, pushing myself off of the table and standing straight. He tugs at my hair, rolling his eyes in disgust as he touches them. Then, he rubs his hand along my skin, sending chills down my spine. Once again, he rolls his eyes in disgust, making me feel uneasy.

Sighing, Felix continues to look at my body. "Who washed you? Savages?"

I keep quiet, ignoring his remarks and comments. He murmurs to himself several times as he surveys my body one last time, and then he steps back a few inches and points to the side.

"Do you like it? If you need any help – which I assume you will – just let me know."

I presume the outfit – more-so a costume – hanging on the wall is what I'll be wearing during the chariot rides. It's a full body-suit, made of a white plastic, and there is no fabric or anything soft on it. It looks uncomfortable from afar, and I can only imagine what it will feel like when I put it on. On the ground below it, there are three different parts. One is a rotor blade, one is a bowl-type hat made of shiny white plastic, and the last is a tail of some sort.

Is that what I think it is? A wind turbine?

Oh, I get it; a wind turbine. Each year, the stylists try to design and create an outfit that resembles the District that the tribute is from, and for me, it's District Five – the power District. There are more than enough wind turbines around District Five, all of them located throughout the District.

Back in District Five, it was what it was. I wasn't expecting things to get better, but I wasn't expecting things to get worse either. I took tesserae once in a while, only because I had to, though. I got used to District Five's ways, going with what everyone else did and not get myself in trouble. Except for me and my friends' adventures, that is, but we never got into any trouble. My parents owned a business and that wasn't doing too well and didn't bring in much money, but my family still stuck together, and that's all that really matters. Their constant fighting put more pressure and stress on me, though, which resulted in more self-harm and personal problems.

I saunter over to the wall where the clothes are hanging, noticing more and more details about the outfit as I get closer. There are panels and buttons all over the outfit, imitating what a real-life wind turbine would look like. As I approach the outfit, I doff the robe on me and pick up the thin under-suit. It's made of a thin fabric, and to be honest, I don't know what this fabric is. I put it on quickly, my interest in the outfit making me be a little clumsy. The next thing I grab is the outfit, and I almost drop it, but I grab it in time before it falls. Felix moans, and if I were to actually drop it and ruin it, he would have probably killed me.

I slip the body-suit on, trying to get comfortable in it. I can barely bend any part of my body in it and it is skin tight. The next thing I put on is the bowl shaped hat that is probably trying to resemble the tip of a wind turbine. The two remaining pieces are the tail and the rotor blade. I will need help putting on the tail, so I'll save that for last, since I prefer not talking or being near Felix. I attach the rotor blade to my chest, it fitting perfectly into a circular structure on the center of my chest. I move my face out of the way, keeping it away from the blades because I don't know how sharp they actually are.

As I bend down to pick up the tail, I glance over at Felix, who is staring at me attentively. I raise an eyebrow, the only expression I will give to him, and he walks over. I stand back up, straighten my back, and play with the blades on my chest. He attaches the tail quickly, and walks to the front of me. Felix grabs my hand and removes it from the blades and then points to my chest.

"There's a switch underneath the rotor. I wouldn't try it right now; you'd probably mess something up."

_If I might mess up a simple piece of technology, what else could I mess up? Stepping off my platform? Shooting an arrow? Throwing a knife? _

_What if I mess up in the actual Games? _

* * *

**Olivine Keenan  
District Two Female, 18 Years Old**

* * *

Adjusting my face piece, I prick my finger with one of the sharper pieces of stone on it. I squeal, drawing the attention of my District partner, Nero, and my stylist, Vera. Vera rushes over, applies pressure to my finger, and stops the bleeding.

It wasn't eve bleeding profusely; it was barely bleeding, but I might as well attract some attention to myself. For that moment, all eyes were on me, not like they aren't anyway.

Isn't Vera such a caring lady? She probably only cared because if blood were to get on my outfit, that would besmirch her reputation.

I won't criticize Vera too much, though, since she did listen to me for the chariot ride outfits. She had some atrocious idea about being a tool of some sort – maybe it was a hammer, either way it was terrible – and then I came along to enlighten her.

I'm glad she took advice from someone like myself; a fashionista, someone who cares about their appearance, and someone who is classically beautiful and superior. Even though I haven't seen any of the other Districts' outfits, I can already tell mine is superior and more luxurious, for several reasons. First, I helped make it. Second, we're from District Two, and that should be a good enough reason in itself. Third, I'm beautiful, and I'll admit, my District partner, Nero, is handsome.

Plus, our outfit is outright gorgeous, so what could possibly be at fault!

Let's start with my shoes; they're five inch high heels, the heel of it made from different types and shades of stones and rocks. My actual outfit, which is a one-piece, but doesn't really look like one, starts at about my thighs. It's jagged, going upwards, and then connects with another piece of fabric at my hip. The fabric connecting the cloth on my hip to my chest is a light gray and is see-through, exposing my stomach area. On my chest, there is more stone and rocks in different shades of gold, brown, and maroon. From my neck upwards, only covering half of my face, almost like a straight-edge, is a mask of some sorts, and it meets my eye on the other side.

It's a beautiful color palette: Gold, brown, and maroon.

I glance over at Nero, and examine his outfit thoroughly. His outfit starts above his thighs with a see-through fabric, just like the one that exposes my stomach area. He is wearing short-shorts, made of the same shades and types of stones and rocks as my outfit. At about his bellybutton a shirt starts, it being short-sleeved and going up to his shoulders, showing all of his muscles and masculine features. He has a face piece too, but his is different. The fabric goes up to his neck, it circling his neck, and then on the right side of his only it goes upwards. It goes up to his ear and covers his right eye.

If I may say so myself, we look pretty nice. Scratch that, we look gorgeous.

Vera ushers me and Nero towards one of the chariots, each assigned to one of the Twelve Districts. Our chariot is the second one in the row, seeing as we are from District Two. Our horses are beautiful, even if they are animals. If they were ugly, we would have a problem, but luckily, they aren't, so I shouldn't worry about that. Nero steps onto the chariot first, and I pout, waiting for him to help me up. He looks back at me, smirks, and then looks forward again. I tap my hand against the chariot and twirl a piece of my hair on my finger.

At last, Nero reaches out his hand, and I grab it swiftly. He pulls me up, and I make sure to not rip or tear my outfit on the chariot. I straighten my back and protrude my chest, posturing myself in a way that would most certainly attract people. I survey each chariot ride, trying not to examine their outfits too clearly just yet, and pinpoint any tribute that stands out to me.

_The two from District One, the two from District Four, the female from District Six, the two from District Seven, and the female from District Twelve._

_Some honorable mentions: The male from District Three, the female from District Eight, the male from District Ten, and the female from District Eleven._

I see the District One chariot jut forward, and that's what snaps me back into reality. Next, my chariot juts forward, and I grasp onto the side of the chariot for support. One by one, the chariot rides enter the doors leading onto the Avenue of the Tributes. District One goes first, followed by my District, and then the others behind me.

The streets and seats are packed with people, and once they realize that the chariots are starting to ride down the road in the center of all of this, they begin to cheer and scream. Nero doesn't cower or become submissive under any of this, and neither do I.

I lean closer to Nero, and without him noticing me, kiss him on the cheek. He flinches a bit, and glares at me from the corner of his eye. I throw my arm up in the air, waving it from side-to-side, attracting all of the attention I can. Nero flexes a bit, showing off his muscle, and I don't blame him; we need to get all of the sponsors we can, and one of the ways we can do that is by showing off our strength, beauty, and determination.

Ahead of us, the District One tributes are attracting a lot of attention as well; flowers are being thrown at them and people are chanting their names, which I can't really hear too clearly. The two of them are basking in their own glory and popularity.

I run my hand through my hair, shaking it a bit, making myself look much more pretty and wild. I shimmy my shoulders and dance a little bit, doing anything I can to get the attention on me, rather than District One. As we continue to ride down the road, more and more people begin to chant me and Nero's names, and I smirk to myself triumphantly.

The District One chariots come to a stop, and mine follow close to them, stopping next to them. We begin to form an arc around an elevated platform, presumably where the President will be standing in a few minutes. Next to us, District Three is in their chariots, the boy looking rather dull, while the girl is peppy.

In all honesty, I like their outfits. Not in the way like I like my own outfit, but in an odd way. All up and down their arms and legs are lights that are flashing different colors. They are wearing glasses of some sort, but they are bulky and fashionable in a modern-type way. They're probably there so the girl and boy don't go blind. The boy still looks dull, not smiling or waving, and the girl is waving to everyone and smiling widely.

All the way at the other end of the arc stands District Twelve. The girl is wearing high boots that go up to her knee, which have a small light on her knees. She has a one-piece swimsuit type of outfit on that goes up to her shoulders, which have paddings on them, and she is wearing gloves that go up to her elbow. Along her waist, there are more lights that basically form a belt. She is also wearing a miner's hat that has a light on the front of it. This girl's entire outfit is in a dark gray color, and her body has random blotches of coal dust on it. The boy's is much simpler; a mining hat with a light on it, paddings on his shoulders, gloves up to his elbow, and boots that connect to the pants that go up to just below his waist. A light is covering the part of his waste where his male body parts could possibly show. His outfit is all made of the same shade of gray that the girl's is.

Once all of the tributes have reached the area below the elevated platform, everyone's attention turns to the doors that open on the platform. The President steps out, and stands at the podium, looking down at all of the tributes that are around him in an arc formation.

"Welcome."

The President is greeted with enormous cheers from the masses in the streets and in the local area, and the sound is deafening, but I might as well enjoy moments like these.

"Tributes! We welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice!"

The President can barely finish his words before the crowds erupt into more cheers, and this time, they are much louder and more rapid.

As the cheers continue, not seeming like they are going stop in the next few minutes, I continue to look at all of the outfits. The next chariot that catches my eye are the two from District One. They caught my eye before, but now I will examine them even more after seeing them react to a crowd and after they presented themselves.

They are in full diamond suits, and I know they are diamonds because, well, a girl knows her diamonds. It starts from their feet and goes all the way up to their necks, and then they have a laurel made out of diamonds on top of both of their heads. The girl has diamonds covering her lady parts and the boy has diamonds covering his man parts. The diamonds are slightly see through, but you can't see that much. Their hands are even covered by the diamonds, yet they were still capable of waving and such. Even though some could see this as a waste, at a moment like this, it is perfect. I find myself being a tad jealous, but they don't look as nearly as beautiful as me.

"We wish you all – Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor."

The crowd roars in appreciate, and I can't help myself but clap a little as well. The crowd is standing now, stomping and clapping. The sound engulfs all of us into a trance, only paying attention to the deafening sound and how crazy the citizens are acting. Before I realize anything, the chariots are already heading back towards the garage where we all were before. We finally get to the garage, and the doors shut with a resounding clang.

Now, the Capitol has time to mull over what they've seen and must decide which tributes look promising. Even I can't help but think who stood out from all of the tributes this year.

Who looked strong? Who looked clever? Whose entrance was dull? Whose entrance was fiery? Who seems like victor material?

_I'm sure I claimed one of those titles, but which one is the question._


	8. Training Day One

**Author's Note:** Look at me, huh? Two updates in the same week? Absurd, I say, absurd! Anyway, Beez in the Trap, everyone, and have a splendid time reading this. Hannah(KnockingBells), even though you don't even read this, you are the Velour to my Cove ;D.

* * *

**Cove Barley  
District One Male, 16 Years Old**

* * *

"Cove, it's time to get up!"

I ignore the man's demand, wrapping the pillow around my ears and clenching my eyelids closer together. A pillow comes landing down on my body, causing me toss and turn on the sheets and in the blankets. Suddenly, the sheets under me are pulled away and my spins in a circular motion, my face landing on the pillow beneath my head.

"Cove!"

This time, I force myself to sit up, my head leaning on the back-board of the bed. My father stands in front of me, his large muscles blocking some of the sun behind him, putting a shadow over his face. I can make out that his face is expressionless, his eyes beating down on me and his mouth closed shut.

"I'm going, I'm going."

I extend my legs, push my hands down on the bed, and leap off of the bed from my butt. I land on my legs perfectly, and I raise my arms triumphantly, but I don't get any form of praise from my father. The silk of the pajamas I am donned in feels airy and almost non-existent, and I glide my arms through the air, acting as if they are an airplane.

A voice comes from the other room, calling "Glass," and before my father leaves the room, he places his hand on my shoulder. I put my hands at my side and look into his eyes, trying to act serious.

"Today's the first training day, Cove. Don't mess up."

I salute him, acting as formal as I can be. He rolls his eyes, chuckles a little bit, and pushes my shoulder, causing me to fall backwards on the bed.

"Be ready in ten minutes."

"Do I get extra rations if I am done in nine?" I ask, my mouth gaping.

My father laughs again, and this time, it is with a bellowing laughter. He shakes his head and points to the bathroom at the other side of my room.

"Try not to drown in the shower, got it?"

Before I can reply, he leaves the room, still laughing and shaking his head. He shuts the door behind him, and I walk off into the bathroom. I set up the shower, the steam from the hot water making nothing visible. As I step into the shower, the water cascades down my body, relaxing me almost instantly. I wash myself down, wash my hair, and after I am done, I stand there without doing anything.

Even from the shower, I can hear my father's bellowing laughter. Having your father as a mentor is definitely better than being mentored by some random person you've only seen on television. Velour's mentor, Radiance, is the victor of the Sixth Hunger Games, while my father is the victor of the Second Hunger Games. My father, technically, is more experienced, and I might be biased, but he is also the better mentor. He actually teaches stuff and helps us out, while Radiance just gossips about the mentors and tributes and tells us how to manipulate people and how to lie. That could come in handy, but I don't know how valuable that information really is.

I turn off the water and step out of the shower. A towel is placed on a rack, and I grab the towel and begin to dry myself off. There is a body-blow-dryer, and I turn that on, and the room becomes very breezy and my body dries much faster. I wrap the towel around my waste and step into my bedroom, noticing the training suit that is hanging on the back of my door. The outfit is simple; black combat boots and a black body-suit with my District number on both shoulders in red.

I don the outfit quickly, carelessly putting the boots on the wrong feet. Laughing, I take the boots off, put them on the right feet, and tie them quickly. I hear people talking in the other room, and I decide to go and join them. When I approach my door, I stand to the side, and open it, hiding myself from everyone's sight.

I'm not sure if anyone is looking or not, but I continue with my joke. I clap, cheer, and bang my hand on the wall, acting as if someone is giving me a grand entrance. I count to five seconds, and then jump out into the doorway. I stand there, one hand on my hip and the other in the hair clenched in fist. My head is tilted towards the ceiling, and my eyes are closed and I am smiling.

"May I present to you: Cove Barley of District One!"

Before Velour can finish her words, she is already laughing, and I can't help myself but laugh as well. I stick out my tongue, and walk towards her, shoving past her with my shoulder. She punches me in the arm, and I am about to punch her back, but then my escort grabs my hand.

"No, no, no!"

Without facing my escort, I make faces at Velour and mouth the word 'No' several times in a row. Velour laughs again and my escort lets out a deep sigh. My escort grabs my shoulder, and spins me around, and then grabs Velour and drags her next to me.

"Guess what time it is-"

Velour puckers her lips and puts a finger on her chin, feigning thinking pensively. "Shopping time?"

I throw my arm out in front of her, and gasp loudly. "Don't tell me it's… it's… Lunch time!"

"No," my escort deadpans. "It's training time."

My escort pushes me and Velour forward, kicking us in the heel with her feet after every step. Without letting us look back, she pushes out of the door, leading us into the hallway. Before she shuts the door I can hear my father and Radiance shout something, but none of us can hear them clearly enough to respond.

We continue walking down the hallway, the silence between everyone making me want to throw up. I glance at Velour who is too preoccupied with herself to look back and at the escort who shoots me a deathly glare once we make eye contact.

"So…"

Neither Velour nor the escort reply, or even look at me, when I speak. I bite my lip, counting the foot-steps left to the elevator. I think of some funny jokes to say, but I'm not sure if they would think they're funny as well. It's worth a shot, though.

"Why is six afraid of seven?"

Velour looks at me for a quick second, smirks, and then looks at her nails. My escort doesn't even move a single muscle in her face and pushes us forward even faster. We finally reach the elevator, and my escort presses the button that opens it, and once the doors open, she pushes us into the elevator.

As the elevator doors begin to close, my escort waves at us. "Have fun, children!"

The ride down is silent, just like in the hallway, but this time, it's not awkward. I'm friendly with Velour, and we're supposed to be allies, which will probably happen, and I really do like her as a person. Sure, she can be arrogant and vain, but I won't judge her just on that. She's funny, amiable, and someone who likes to joke around with me. At least she's not up-tight like our escort.

I bump into Velour by accident, my elbow hitting into her side. She cringes a bit, and then backs up a few steps. I throw my hands up in the air and she puts a fist in front of my face.

"Oh, my bad! I didn't see you there!"

Velour grunts, "Watch it, punk!"

I wink, "I'm Cove, from District One."

"I'm pretty, from out-of-your-league."

Before I can retort, the elevator is full of heartily laughter. Velour snorts, and we both look at each other and go quiet for a second, but that only makes us laugh even harder. We are still laughing, not noticing the elevator doors open. We calm ourselves down, trying to make ourselves look presentable. We step out at the same time, my arm wrapped around her hip and her hand on top of my head.

In front of the door, there are two Peacekeepers, and once they notice that we have arrived, they open the doors. Velour lets go of me and struts through the doors, ditching me in the room before the Training Center. I follow her into the room, adjusting my eyes to the light in the Training Center. Just like the Training Centers back in District One, the whole room is made of a metal or steel, have many weapon and survival skill stations placed throughout the room, and have elevated platforms here-and-there.

On one platform in the corner of the room, the Head Gamemakers and a few other Gamemakers are situated, eating food and talking loudly. On another platform, in the center of a back wall, stands the Head Trainer. Once the Head Trainer realizes that all of the tributes have arrived, a whistle is blown. All of the tributes stand around the platform, looking upwards at the Head Trainer.

"Tributes, tributes!"

As he calls out, everyone's head turns towards him, even the Gamemakers in the corner of the room.

"I am Kallias; the Head Trainer that will orchestrate the next two days and will guide you in the direction you will need to be headed in order to do well in the Games."

Kallias pauses for a moment, possibly waiting for a response or a reaction, but the room stays silent.

"In two weeks, twenty three of you will be dead; one of you will be alive."

I glance around the room, specifically looking for the tributes that have a '2' and '4' on their shoulders. After looking at about four tributes, I locate the two from Two; a muscular boy and a dainty girl.

"Who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next four days. Particularly to what I'm about to say. First; no fighting with the other tributes, you'll have plenty of time for that at the arena."

I continue looking through the tributes, trying to locate the District Four tributes this time. Then, I find the male and female from Four; the male is muscular, but not as muscular compared to the male from Two, and the red-headed girl is lean.

"There are four compulsory exercises; the rest will be individual training. My advice is don't ignore the survival skills."

With the mention of survival skills, I look for a station that is relevant to survival skills. Plant identification, fire-making, hammock-making, and a bunch of other stations are spread out throughout the room. There are a lot more survival skill stations here than there were in District One.

"Everybody wants to grab a sword, but most of you will die from natural causes, ten percent from infection, and twenty percent from dehydration."

See, survival skills are vital. I used to pay more attention to weapons, but I still studied some survival skills. Knowing the difference between a poisonous berry and an edible one is a life-or-death situation. One wrong slip-up with food or plants can mean death, and being killed by anything natural like plants would be humiliating.

"Exposure can kill as easily as a knife."

After he finishes her last words, he blows his whistle again. All of the tributes, even me, look around awkwardly, waiting to see if we're allowed to begin training yet. After a while, everyone gets the hint, and begins to walk off in different directions. I meet up with Velour, and then she nods her head, directing our attention at the tributes from District Two and District Four.

Velour takes a more assertive approach, strutting towards them, smiling and playing with her hair. I saunter over there, trying to look casual and friendly. The two from District Four walk towards us as well, and we all meet up in the center of the Training Center. We stand in a circular formation, no one speaking, but we're all looking at each other. I turn my head for a quick second, and that's when someone speaks up.

"Allies?"

* * *

**Seer Brine  
District Seven Female, 17 Years Old**

* * *

All of them, complete and utter assholes. The Peacekeepers, the trainers, the Gamemakers – all of them.

The Capitol is the worst offender of them all. It's ludicrous, the idea that the Capitol has such superiority and dominance over the Districts, while the Districts have little-to-no say in anything. They underestimate the Districts' potential, and if they are trying to cease any rebellious ideals, they are failing. Another rebellion could happen easily, and the Capitol would be caught off-guard. Honestly, if I had the chance, I would unleash an army the size of Panem itself against the Capitol. I would personally kill the President too, by sending an axe straight in between his eyes.

But I wouldn't share my opinions on this; I'm no fool. If you show any dissent or contempt towards the officials, you'd be in serious trouble. I'm not dumb, and I know that the Games are rigged; the favorites are helped and stay alive, while the rebellious and hated tributes die a slow, gruesome death.

Personally, am I scared of the Hunger Games? There is no real answer to that question.

The Games are a complete strategy game. You must put smarts before thoughts, needs before wants, and reality before emotions. If you fail to do any of this, it will ultimately lead to your death, and that's not what I'm aiming for. Simply, I just need to know others, how they think, and what they will do, and then I'll have a chance at winning. People are easy to read, giving themselves away too quickly.

But, once again, I don't do that; I'm no fool. I'm an excellent liar and actress, and by the looks of it, I'm succeeding. I'm fooling everyone into thinking I'm something I'm not, it's wonderful. They're heading for a rude awakening, the day that I crush one of their pretty little throats, watching their eyes bulge out of their heads once they realize it's me – the sweet and innocent girl from District Seven – killing them.

Even the tributes are ignorant, not just the Capitol. It's despicable.

I saunter over towards the axe station, where my District partner, Tobias, is standing, practicing with the throwing axes. I walk slowly, playing with a few strands of my hair, bobbing my shoulders up-and-down. I approach Tobias, and as I get closer, I begin to walk to the side, trying not to make it look like I'm stalking him.

_I'll save the stalking for my prey in the arena._

I grab a light-axe off of the rack on the wall, the metal feeling cold on my skin, sending chills down my hand. Holding it in my hand, it fits perfectly, but I hold it wrong on purpose. I am about to throw it wrong, and if I throw it like the way it's in my hand now, it would come landing down on my shoulder. Before I can release the axe, Tobias grabs my hand and disarms me. He rolls his eyes, not entertained by my poor attempts to throw an axe.

"Can you," I begin to speak, purposely choking on my own words, "He- help me?"

"Cut the shit," Tobias deadpans, throwing the axe with full-force.

The axe lands an inch or two away from the bulls-eye, and his mouth doesn't form into a smirk or anything. He broadens his shoulders, grabs another axe, and throws it rather quickly, it landing on the opposite side of the target, but still a few inches away from bulls-eye.

"What do you mean?" I ask, batting my eyelashes.

"Do you honestly think you're fooling anyone?"

My mouth forms into a callous smirk, my eyes widening at his words. "Clever, aren't you?"

Tobias puffs out his chest, "I've seen you around District Seven, you know."

"And?" I ask, nudging my elbow into his side. "Do you like what you see?"

Tobias shakes his head, ignores my comment, and picks a large axe this time. I pick up a smaller one, one that would probably fit comfortable in a pocket, and play with it in between my fingers. Tobias and the trainer begin to practice with the axes, swinging them at each other and jumping back after the metal clangs.

The trainer hunches over, leaning his weight on the axe. Tobias rolls up his sleeves, the adrenaline manifested in his face. The trainer gets back up and throws himself at Tobias with his axe in the air, and Tobias steps to the side, throwing his arm out. His arm plants itself in the trainer's back, pushing him down forcefully. The trainer's axe goes flying, and Tobias brings down his axe on the trainer's back, but stops when the blade is about an inch or two away from embedding itself in him. Tobias walks back over towards me, grabs the small axe out of my hand and forces the larger axe in place of it.

"I know you, Seer," he whispers into my ear, "And I know that you need allies. Lucky for you, so do I."

I smirk, "What makes you think I need allies?"

"If you have this whole intricate plan thought out, you'd realize that you do. Don't make me change my mind."

I step back, rolling my shoulders and I place the axe back on the rack. I turn my back for a second, and when I turn back around, Tobias has his hand extended out in front of him. There is a small smirk on his face, but it quickly fades back into an expressionless pair of lips.

"One last chance: Allies or not?"

"Allies," I reply, shaking his hand with emphasis.

Tobias lets go of my hand, and points to something behind me. I turn around, and notice the tributes from One, Two, and Four huddling around each other in the center of the Training Center. Throughout the years, they've been called the 'Careers.' The Career alliance usually does well in the Games, more-so than outer-District tributes. They're arrogant, for the most part, and they are their own downfalls.

To be completely honest, the Careers are stupid. Plain stupid; there is no other way to phrase it, and the word 'stupid' explains them most clearly. From the start, they let everyone know their skills and talents, and hide nothing. They want to find competition and adversaries, and then want to kill them. They irk me more than anything, and I'll make sure to take care of them in the arena. Mark my words.

Outer-Districts, on the other hand, are smarter. They're more resourceful, clever, and know how to deal with real-life situations, unlike the Careers who train with weapons to kill. If they have any, the outer-District tributes hide them and don't flaunt them off to everyone. They know when the right time is to show them. They're better off in the arena than the Careers, but the Careers are better off in the Capitol.

Either way, children die in the arena. Young teenagers or older teenagers, it makes no difference. It's not right to kill kids, but it's happening regardless, so tributes must make a stand of their own.

Take District Seven, for example. It's resourceful, yet scrawny. District Seven could have lethal tributes, but only if they put forward the effort and time it takes. The Capitol doesn't realize how vital the lumber District is, and what its significance is. I believe that District Seven should be treated better, because if they stopped working and producing goods for Panem, the Capitol would fall, as well as all of the other Districts.

"I'll see you around, Tobias. I have some business to attend to."

Tobias says something, but I am already walking away from. My attention is directed on the two from District Six: The snow-white one and the fidgety one. They don't see me coming towards them, and they continue to talk to each other at a table full of books.

Once I get over there, I press my hand down on the boy's shoulder, my nail digging into the skin on his neck. I didn't do that on purpose, and I'm not really sure what I just did. The boy starts to hyperventilate very softly, glaring at me from the corner of his eye. I ignore him and smile at the girl.

"I think that one is poisonous!" I exclaim, pointing at a random image in one of the books.

The girl narrows her eyes, "It clearly says edible right underneath it."

"Oh, does it?" I ask, trying to sound as weak as possible.

The girl opens up her mouth, about to speak, but I can hear a few chuckles and giggles from behind me. The only people that could sound like that are the Careers, and if they are laughing at me, I swear they'll regret it.

"Did your escort apply our make-up this morning?" The auburn-haired girl from Two asks, a sense of mockery in her voice.

"Or did you fall into a pit of snow?" The girl from One laughs, clutching onto her stomach. "Someone, quick, get her a blanket! She must be freezing!"

I stand there, not wanting to move, but also not wanting to speak. I'm on the opposite side of the table than the Careers, and they don't seem to be paying much attention to me or the boy. I didn't realize my hand is still on the boy's shoulders, and I take it off, the boy letting out a long sigh once my hand is fully off of him.

"Oh, you laugh at me because I'm different?" The girl from Six speaks up, pointing her finger at the Careers.

The girls from One and Two nod in unison, look at each other, and laugh even more. The girl from Six shakes her head from side-to-side, eyeing the two of them up and down.

"How nice, but I think it's even funnier that you're all the _same_."

The Careers go silent, and the girls from One and Two step forward a step. The boys from One and Two grab ahold of their District partners, while the two from Four just walk away. I back up too, my mouth gaping a little bit, shocked by this girl.

Whoever she is, she's a fool. A complete fool, just like the Careers. She let out her fiery side, mocking the Careers just like they mocked her. Self-defense, even verbally, can give a lot away. Now, the Careers will target her just from this one little scene. Silly, silly girl.

People just never learn, do they?

When will anyone learn their lesson?

* * *

**Lyra Bane  
District Ten Female, 16 Years Old**

* * *

Accidentally pressing the wrong answer, a bright red 'X' appears on the screen, indicating that I had gotten the answer wrong, even though I know the answer. Nightlock is poisonous, and that should be common sense by now; there have been nineteen Hunger Games so far, and Nightlock has made an appearance in all of them. I burst out laughing, finding my mistake hilarious.

We all make mistakes, right?

I continue taking this plant identification exam, getting most of them correct, but still getting some incorrect. Luckily, it's only the first day of training, so I have two more days to acquire more knowledge about this topic. The bright screen in front of me distracts me everything else, keeping me from leaving it and doing more and more plant identification exams.

_Poisonous, poisonous, poisonous, edible, non-existent, edible, poisonous, poisonous, edible._

I rattle off the answers, my hands moving from side-to-side on the pad quickly, a bright green check appearing after every answer I get correct. After a while, this gets tedious, but I know I should pay attention to the plants and survival skill stations. For some reason, I feel that these seem important this year. Maybe it's because there are a lot of survival skill station and plant identification stations here, or maybe I'm just overthinking it.

The word 'Flower' pops up on the screen, and I press the arrow and a row of different flowers appear in a column and on the other side of the screen there are random names of flowers. I guess I have to match the flowers to the names.

_Buttercup, daisies, dandelions, posy, primrose, rue, tiger lilies, wild flowers._

This time, for the flower part of the exam, I got them all right. Flowers are edible at times, but only if you are in dire need of food and nourishment. Plants are more confusing than flowers, and then when you add berries and fruits into the mix, it becomes a little confusing.

Botany is tricky. Many plants and flowers are edible, but one false mouthful and you're dead.

I move to the side, placing my hands on another pad in front of me. This time, the word 'Liquid' pops up, and in all honesty, I'm not sure what this means or what this station I could be. I hesitantly press the arrow, trying to think of what it could be about, and another slide appears on the screen.

A variety of different colors and densities of liquids appear on the screen one-by-one, and I have to tell whether they are edible, poisonous, or non-existent. Underneath the picture is a description of the liquid. The first liquid to appear is water, and obviously, it's edible. The next is a lighter-color liquid, almost transparent, and I guess and press poisonous – turns out it was bleach. After the bleach disappears from the screen, a brown, and by the looks of it, very dense, liquid appears. This time, I know nothing about this liquid, and I can barely make a guess on it. I take into consideration that I have never seen it before, and tap 'non-existent' on the screen, and a bright red 'X' pops out. Turns out, the answer is poisonous.

"Is that the best you can do?"

I tense up at the mockery of the voice's tone, and I fight back the urge to slump down and hide under the table. I pretend to do something else with the pad, trying to ignore whoever is behind me and hoping that they will walk away.

"When I talk to you, you respond, _Ten_."

The voice is female, and I assume it's a Career, but from the corner of my eye, I see all of the female Careers. It must not be a Career, then, but I don't know who else would have the bravery and brazenness to mock the other tributes. The figure behind me snorts, and I continue to not let myself turn around and give her any satisfaction. I grab my left arm with my right hand and dig my nails into my arm, doing anything I can to escape from where I am mentally and ignore the girl.

"Are you deaf? Or are you just shy?"

I clench my eyes shut, holding back the tears that are forming in my tears. I don't understand why whoever is behind me is so rude, and I really don't want to find out. Slowly, I inch to the side, trying to put enough space between me and her, so I can just walk away completely. As I take on step to the side, the girl grabs my arm, and I glance down and notice that she has dark skin.

With the touch of her hand on my arm, I tense up even more, a sense of infuriation forming in my gut. I clench my teeth, grunt a muffled sound, and snap my head to face her. It's the District Eleven female, and I can tell by the '11' on her shoulder. Her mouth forms into a haughty grin, showing her teeth. I exhale slowly, trying to calm myself down, but to no avail. Without thinking it through, I grab her hand and yank it off of my arm, holding onto her fingers tightly.

"Oh, do we have a bipolar here? This adds an interesting dynamic to the tributes this year."

I narrow my eyes, tightening my grip on her fingers. She shows no signs of discomfort or pain, and with one quick movement of my arm, I push her backwards, releasing her fingers. She holds her hand up in front of her, examining her nails, and then places both of her hands on her hips. I keep my mouth shut, knowing that if I do say something, I will probably make an enemy right now, and it's only the first day of training.

"Just leave me alone," I murmur, turning my back to her.

The District Eleven female lets out an exaggerated sigh and I can hear her walking away from the sound of her boots against the floor. I stand there for a few seconds, making sure that she is gone before turning around. When I turn around, the spot where she was just standing is empty. The sound of the grunts, clanging of metal, and chatter around the Training Center brings me back down to reality.

I calm myself down, thinking about my past life in District Ten. The horses, my large family, my poetry; all of the things that used to make me happy. I usually use this method whenever I get angry, and it usually works, except for when I am extremely infuriated or extremely depressed.

It was diagnosed as bipolarity, but I don't consider it that. It only happens every once in a while, and when those rare stages do happen, I know how calm myself down and bring myself back down to my normal self. I'm prone to panic attacks, which don't help me, but I'm used to them by now. Whenever I get one, I just continue on with my day, trying to forget about whatever caused them. Poetry is one thing that helps me forget the faults in my life; some poems are light and some poems are dark. Self-harm is something else I resort to, but only because I think the pain distracts me, not because I like the feeling of it.

I shake these thoughts out of my head and go back to training. At a table there are a few books, and I decide that those books will be the thing I do here. I walk over, making sure that no one is following me or is around me, and sit down and grab the first book. It's a two-part book, one titled "Surviving in the Jungle" and one titled "Surviving in the Forest."

I begin reading the jungle section of the book, trying to take every piece of information in. It says to stop and think, and to think about your top priorities and necessities. Find water, food, build a shelter, watch out for predators, and plan how to get rescued. It shows a bunch of different tips to find water and food, including a structure called a 'Solar Water Still' and a trap called the 'Deadfall Trap.'

I flip to the section about the forest. At first, it says to stop and think about your location. Retracing your footsteps would be a good idea, and the things you should find first are water, food, and materials to make a fire. Also, you should make a weapon for defense and to only travel in one direction in daylight. It gives you a structure that will help make a fire called a 'Fire Plow Method.' Once again, it says to plan out how you are going to be rescued.

But I can't be rescued in the Hunger Games, can I?

No, no, of course not. It's either I live or I die, and there is no rescuing.

The thoughts of death and rescue make me uneasy. Maybe I'm too reluctant to realize that I might die in the arena, even if I try my hardest. I can die no matter what, and even the Careers and the girl from Eleven, can die too. We all can, and we can't escape it.

Even after the arena we die. We die from old age, disease, maybe even overdosing on drugs. The possibilities are endless. I don't want to make it seem like I'm giving up – I have too much to come back home to in District Ten.

I need to win, whether or not I want to. I need to win for my District, my family, _myself_.

_I'll be coming back to District Ten. I will, no matter what. I will fight to my last breath for you, District Ten._


	9. Training Day Two

**Mariel Seavey  
District Four Female, 17 Years Old**

* * *

In front of the door leading into the Training Center are two Peacekeepers, dressed in their white uniforms and light armor. Their stern and ominous eyes are hiding beyond a white helmet with a transparent visor. They have leather boots on their feet and black gloves on their hands, and their right hand always seems to be gripped around the baton on their belt. Usually, they have automatic weapons, but I guess since we're indoors automatic weapons aren't necessary. A baton probably doesn't frighten the tributes as much as an automatic weapon would too.

I step forward, placing myself right in front of the two Peacekeepers. Adam stands behind me, not really paying attention to me or the Peacekeepers. In unison, the two Peacekeepers stretch out their arms and grab a hold of the handle on the door. They nod to each other and then open the door. I walk into the Training Center, and notice a metal device hanging above the doorway. I wouldn't be surprised it it's a metal detector of some sort; they probably don't want any outside tools or utensils coming into the Training Center.

The Training Center is a massive, open gym. Bright lights that illuminate the area are allocated on the ceiling. There are several stations spread throughout the Training Center: survival courses, weaponry, running, and many more. Trainers, as well as Peacekeepers, are positioned at each station.

In another area, perched above the gym, is the Gamemakers' balcony. From the balcony, the Gamemakers have a panoramic view of all the stations, trainers, Peacekeepers, and tributes in the room. Even though not all of the tributes are in the room yet, the Gamemakers whisper into each other's ears and take notes. Behind them is a lavish buffet, where some of them stand, eating and talking loudly to each other. The Gamemakers might seem distracted and nonchalant, but they are always paying close attention to the tributes. They are studying the tributes: how they move, how they interact, how they jump, how they fall, and everything else.

"Hi, Mariel."

I bite my lip at the sound of that distinct voice. Only one person's voice sounds so vile, yet pleasant at the same time. That one person is Olivine Keenan, the female from District Two.

Without turning around, I turn my head and glance at her from over my shoulder. Olivine batters her eyelashes and smiles. She waves in a seductive way and then places her hand on my right shoulder.

I tense up from the touch of Olivine's hand and tilt my head towards my left shoulder. She places one finger on my neck, and I flinch.

"Hi, Olivine."

"Get your hand off of her, Olivine."

Another voice comes from behind me, and by the sound of it, I can tell that it is Adam's voice.

Adam is my District partner, and for the most part, we get along. There will never be anything between us, not that I would want there to be, anyway. He always talks about this one girl; Gwen, I believe her name is. Nevertheless, we talk occasionally, and the topic of our conversations is usually our alliance and our allies. We also agree on who to trust in the alliance and who to watch out for. Adam and I trust each other the most, and then Cove and Nero. Velour is alright, in the aspect that she knows she needs us to survive and we need her to survive. I speak to Velour more than Adam does, but overall, we like her for the most part. Olivine, on the other hand, is someone we don't trust too much. There's just something about her that seems fake, and no, it's not just the make-up that is plastered on her face.

"Don't get jealous, Adam. Jealousy is the ugliest trait."

Adam chooses to ignore Olivine, turning his body towards me and cutting off any interaction between him and Olivine. Olivine doesn't give up, though, and continues to bug him.

"I apologize, Adam. Will you ever forgive me?"

Adam broadens his shoulders, showing agitation, but before Adam can do anything in response to Olivine, the head trainer blows his whistle. Everyone goes silent as the sound echoes throughout the Training Center.

"Tributes, tributes! Remember: Today is the second day of training. Tomorrow will be your last. Do not waste it."

The Head Trainer, Kallias, finishes up his words, and then blows his whistle once again. I'm not sure where I want to go today, since I've been training with a lot of weapons and survival skills the last two days. Maybe I should just work on everything for a few minutes each. I'll start with the swords, I guess.

I always preferred a lance or a dagger, for no particular reason, really. They're easy to handle and easy to, if you have to, kill with. Whenever I did train, even though I never did it habitually, I mostly stuck with lances.

I look to see if anyone would want to come with me, but they're all off doing their own thing. Velour at the machetes, Cove at the throwing knives, Olivine at the spears, Nero at the weightlifting, Adam at the tridents, and then there's me. I nod, not feeling too lonely or annoyed that they're not training by my side. I walk over to the swords station, where the lances will be, and there is only one person there already; the District Ten male.

I grab the first lance on the rack; a short grip and a long, steel, and flimsy blade connected to it. I step up to the dummy, and cut it gently with my lance, only some of the cotton in the dummy falling out of it. I do this for a few minutes, only to one dummy, and then I get tired after a while. The District Ten male, whose name I cannot recall, stands there with a sword in his hand, without doing anything else.

"Would you like any help? I've trained with these," I ask sweetly, sounding as generous as possible.

"No," he replies, a cold edge in his voice.

I am taken back, a little offended, even, by his bitterness. "I- I was just trying to help…"

"I don't want it."

With that, he places the sword back on the rack and walks away. I stand there for a moment, still offended by him, not sure what to do with myself. These are the reasons why I choose to stay quiet, even if it results in me not being trusted or having friends. People are rude and cold, and the male from District Ten is no different. If he didn't want my help, he could have just said no in a polite way, but no, I guess that was too much to ask of him.

_I guess I truly am on my own. It's better off that way, anyway._

I hand the lance to the trainer, who puts it back on the rack for me. I lean back against the wall, observing all of the tributes. In one corner, there are the two from District Six, talking among themselves, not really doing anything productive, and in another corner there are the two from Three, who are actually doing something productive at the fire-making station.

Off to the side, at the camouflage station, the males from Districts Nine, Eleven, and Twelve, are standing there, talking and with smiles on their faces. The male from Twelve is making weird face gestures, sticking out his tongue and pulling at his mouth with his fingers. The little one from Nine isn't saying much, and I can tell because his mouth isn't actually moving from words, it's only smiling. The boy from Eleven seems like the most talkative, he seems like he is babbling away. The boy from Eleven holds out his hand in the middle, and the two other boys put their hands on top of his. I'm sure they just formed an alliance, which is so heart-wrenching.

What are the chances of those boys surviving? Past the Bloodbath, even?

Slim-to-none, unfortunately. They don't think about death, I'm sure, and I don't blame them. Death is a touchy subject, and even though it's essentially imminent for these boys, they are still enjoying themselves.

Just by the looking of them, my mind goes back to District Four. My brothers, Zack and Gil, are just like those boys. Young, impressionable, and innocent. They don't have a bad-bone in their body, and it's depressing to see this happening. If my brothers were reaped, which I hope they would never be, they would be like those boys; allying with the younger tributes about their age, hoping for the best. I don't want to think about, though, because I wouldn't be able to survive if they were reaped.

_But what if they are reaped?_

I'd volunteer for them.

_But you can't, can you? You're female._

Well, I would get someone to volunteer for them. Besides, we're from District Four, a Career District, and there are always volunteers.

_To see them again, you would have to win the Games this year. What if you don't win?_

No, no, no.

_You want to return home just like everyone else. What makes you different?_

I have my brothers to return home to. And my father. Without my mother, they need me to be there for them.

_They need you, Mariel. They do. But you need to stay true to yourself first._

* * *

**Minx Hyede  
District Five Female, 13 Years Old**

* * *

Rolling up my sleeve, I begin to paint different patterns on my arms with the paints from this station. I make circles, squares, and random lines, all connecting to each other. The colors here are boring, and they only have different types of browns, greens, reds, and yellows. I do this for several minutes, not realizing that my whole arm is covered in paints and I am already drawing up my arm on my training clothes.

My District partner, Sinter, is close to me and is working at the same station. I creep up on him, trying to stay hidden and to not let him see me, and then I hide under the table where he is. He hasn't found me yet, and I want to scare him.

_1… 2… 3… 4… 5!_

On the count of, I jump out at him, hitting the back of my head on the table, but I still got a finger or two of paint on his outfit. Sinter doesn't really look at his arm with the paint on it, and he pays more attention to me on the floor. I begin to sob softly, the pain in my head hurting a lot. As the pain begins to hurt more, I cry louder and the tears begin to come. I let out a scream, and the trainers rush over to me, but Sinter puts out his arm and kneels down beside me.

"Sh, sh," he hums into my ear. "It's okay, you're okay, Minx. Just open your eyes and stop crying."

I kick my legs out, still crying. I wrap my arms around Sinter, but once he picks me up, I see something behind him. It's a ball of some sorts, and it looks fun to play with. I let go of Sinter, and he tries to grab my arm again, but I move it out of the way and walk forward. The crying stops and I wipe my face, feeling the dried tears on it.

I get closer to the ball, and it looks bouncy, and no one is around it. I scamper over to it, my hair bobbing side-to-side. The ball sits in front of me, and it is a large ball made of red plastic. I throw myself at it, my body bouncing off of it as soon as I land on it. My giggles fill the room, and a lot of people look at me with smiles on their faces.

I play with the ball for a few more minutes, not paying attention to anything else. No one else is around, and I don't really mind it. The closest person to me is a trainer and a Peacekeeper, who are both looking at me. I wave to them, and the Peacekeeper doesn't wave back, but the trainer does. I kick the ball with my feet at the trainer, and she kicks it back to me, hitting me in the knees, causing me to fall down.

I bet my brother and my friends would have a lot of fun with this too.

I stand back up, brushing my knees with my hands. I pick the ball up with my hands and place it down, kicking it gently one last time, and it rolls away. The big, strong, and scary tributes are coming my way, and I know that it's time to leave whenever they come near you.

The scary tributes are like the Capitol, I think. And I'm scared of the Capitol. People have told me that it is very big, and once I got here, they were true. It is huge compared to District Five, and it's all white and nice-looking. The people here are also scary, with their colorful clothes and faces. I do like District Five, though. I'm used to it and it's so familiar, and I like it because of that. I don't think there's anything wrong with it, but I wish we could have more food or fun at times.

Back in District Five, I watched the Hunger Games at times. I didn't always watch them, since I found them scary and odd. Children my age were stabbed, and I wonder what else happened to them. They just lied there without moving or anything. I get nervous thinking of them because I wouldn't want to be stabbed and have blood on me. I think they're horrible, but now that I am in them, I don't know what to think.

I turn my face as I pass the Careers, trying to stay away from them and trying to not let them see me. They wouldn't say anything to me, anyway, since I am young and nice. They are mean and people in District Five said that they want to kill you. Maybe that's what happens to the kids in the Hunger Games after they are stabbed, they are killed. Killed by the Careers, or even killed by the other tributes.

Shoving my hand in my pocket, trying to distract myself from the Careers, I grab my brother's watch that he gave to me. Keynan said that it was passed down through our family, and he wants me to have it. I want to return it to him because I shouldn't have it, I feel like Keynan deserves it more than I do. Keynan and I were very close and I love him, not just because he's my brother, but also because he's my friend. The ticking of the clock calms me down a lot, and it sounds nice after a while. I place it back in my pocket and continue walking.

In front of me there is a large screen that is bright and is making low noises. It's making the sounds that I used to hear back in District Five, like a computer of some sort. I walk up to it, click a random button and words pop up on the screen. The computer says the words too, and below it are a bunch of different answers.

"You've trekked through poison ivy and now have a painful rash on your legs. You:"

I think for a little bit, looking at each answer below and think whether they are good or not. It takes me a minute or two, and that's when I come up with my answer. I press the first answer: 'Cool it down with a salve and rest, trying hard not to touch it.'

After I press that answer, more words pop up on the screen. This time, they say, 'This shows your INTELLIGENCE.'

Intelligence? I guess so.

Another questions pops on the screen and the robotic voice speaks again.

"You come across a bunch of ripe Juneberries on a bush. You:"

Juneberries? Those are a type of fruit, I think. Well, one thing is for sure that you wouldn't eat them. Not everything is edible, even in District Five, so you have to be careful.

I press the second answer: 'Avoid them. You're not sure, but you think Juneberries are poisonous.'

After I press the answer, more words pop on the screen: 'This shows your INTELLIGENCE.'

Shrugging, I step away from the computer, and sit down on a bench next to it. The bright lights are still in my eyes, and I blink quickly a few times in a row, trying to get them away. I look at the screen one last time, and just as I look, the word 'INTELLIGENCE' fades away.

I guess I'm intelligent. Keynan said I was always smarter than him, and I was always smarter than the other girls in school. My father was a teacher, so he was always telling us to study and to learn more. My father was a nice, but I don't know anything about my mother. She died when I was little, and I was too young to remember anything. I miss her, even though I don't know much about her. She was family, well, is. She still is my mother, even though she isn't with us anymore. She always will be, just like Keynan will always be my brother and just like my father will always be my father.

And I will always be Minx.

And nothing can change that.

* * *

**Velour Versailles  
District One Female, 18 Years Old**

* * *

As I turn my head from side to side, glancing at each sector of the Training Center and taking in and analyzing every single tribute, I realize one thing – they're all _inferior_.

Throughout the Training Center, knives are stabbed, spears are hurled, axes are lodged into dummies, and tributes are making fools of themselves.

How could the Gamemakers and Head Trainer sit on that balcony, watching each tribute and commenting on them without dying from boredom or disappointment?

This year, the tributes are a disgrace.

In one of the corners of the room is the Gauntlet. It's a daunting obstacle course, and most tributes think it would be easy, but I can assure you, it's not, unless you have some skill. It seems that most of these tributes don't have any skill, since most of them have fell off of it, basically making a fool of themselves. At the moment, the District Six girl, whose name I cannot recall, steps up to take her turn. She jumps up onto the first platform, and with ease, leaps from one platform to another. She seems very agile, but I am sure she won't keep her balance when the trainers start to swing padded clubs at them. To my astonishment, she dodges each swing from the padded clubs, leaping over them gracefully. She reaches the end of the course, and looks at a stop watch that one of the trainers is holding.

I'm sure it wasn't an impressive time. I mean, how could it be? She's from District Six.

I must admit, though, that she does have some skill. She's quick, agile, and by the looks of it, fast. It must be because she's from the Transportation District; she's as fast as a train and can transport herself from place to place quickly.

_But she's not as good as you are, Velour._

On the ceiling of the Training Center is the ropes course. A large net stretches across the whole Training Center's ceiling. There are also some short and long ropes that dangle down from the ceiling. The District Eleven female, Cama is her name, which I know because we had previously gotten into a little argument, grabs the net and begins climbing it slowly. Each time, she reaches her arm higher, grabbing ahold of another piece of the net. She begins to climb it a much quicker pace, making sure to smirk triumphantly each time she makes it further. She finally gets to the actual ceiling and reaches out to grab one of the dangling ropes. Cama grabs onto the rope, lets her body swing, and stays there for a few seconds. She grabs onto a longer rope that extends from the ceiling to the floor and slides down it. Once she notices me staring at her, I smile and wave at her.

Cama is nimble and definitely has some muscle, but it's only climbing. How much can climbing actually help you, anyway? Plus, if you're already dead, how much could climbing help? It won't.

_But she's not as good as you are, Velour._

The snare and camouflage station sit in the corner of the room, very close to each other and only have one trainer to occupy both of the stations. The snare and camouflage stations are two stations that are overlooked by most. I, on the other hand, realize the importance of these two stations. If you're in the arena and need food, you can shoot it, fish for it, or catch it with a snare. The camouflage station might seem pointless, but there is some benefit to knowing how to camouflage yourself. No tributes are at these stations, which isn't much of a surprise.

This is just another reason why these tributes are disgraceful; they're overlooking the seemingly pointless stations, without realizing how beneficial they can actually be.

This only bolsters the notion of my superiority.

I step back a few steps, allowing myself to see a bigger portion of the enormous Training Center. I am currently at no station in particular because I am resting after all of the training I had just done. I already had training back in the District, so this is only a refresher for my skills and just to give me some reminders.

My allies – the male from One, the two from Two, and the two from Four – are all huddling around in the center of the Training Center, not training at the moment. In all honesty, none of them are comparable to me and should really use this time to their advantage.

I wave my hand and whistle, trying to get their attention. In unison, they all turn their heads and immediately begin to walk over towards me.

The perks of being the leader of the Career alliance: You can tell them to do whatever you want, they are obligated to obey you, and in the arena, they will protect you no matter what.

Cove is the first one to come over towards me, and I pat his head in approval. He's the most subordinate out of all of them, but he is probably the weakest. He spends his time just talking to people from other Districts, especially the two from District Nine. I don't belittle him for this, I think the other Districts' culture and traditions are interesting, but anyone who is not in my alliance doesn't deserve my presence.

Nero, Olivine, Adam, and Mariel make their way over, and we all stand in a circle quietly. Each of them open their mouths a few time, probably thinking of something say that would start a conversation, but no one actually speaks.

Suddenly, the female from District Eleven barges into Olivine, and she giggles on impact. No one else is with her and she obviously doesn't know what she's doing.

"Excuse me?" I snap.

"What?" She replies, still giggling.

"Who are you?"

"Who are _you_?"

"I asked you first," I retort.

"I asked you second," she replies, turning that giggle into a heartily laughter.

"She's Velour Versailles: the District One mayor's daughter, the prettiest girl here, and the soon-to-be victor," Cove banters, pointing a finger at Cama.

The girl nods and silences her laughter, "Oh."

"Who are you?" I repeat.

"District Eleven, Cama Zale," she says matter-of-factly.

"So, _Cama_," I sneer, "can we help you?"

"Probably not."

I narrow my eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Cama shrugs, "Whatever you want it to mean."

"Listen, I don't know who you think you are."

"Let me repeat: I am Cama," she replies, smirking.

"I couldn't care less," I scoff.

"Really? Because it sure seems like you do."

I smile, "Well, I don't."

Cama turns her body the other way, swinging her hair around, letting it skim against the back of Olivine's neck. She ignores my remark and giggles to herself again. Cama cracks her neck and then rolls her shoulders. With that, she begins walking away, making sure to look back and smirk at us every few footsteps.

I tilt my head, clenching my fist tightly, "I want to murder you."

Olivine shrugs and twirls her hair, "We'll let you."

I close my eyes and breathe slowly, "Everyone."

Olivine looks towards the ceiling and fixes her eyelash, "What?"

Cove, Nero, Adam, and Mariel all look at me without saying anything.

"She's mine."

_Mental note: Kill Cama Zale of District Eleven._

People like Miss Zale are what put a damper on my mood. I don't purposely want to start an argument with just anyone, unless there is a real reason behind it.

But, at times, arguments are fun, aren't they?

Especially the arguments with people like Ivonette, Cama, and Amara. All of them are on my bad side, and once you're on my bad side, your title is never revoked. Until your dead, that is. Because when you're dead, you don't matter anymore. Not like they matter much as of now, anyway.

Because I am almost feeling myself dozing off from boredom, I think it's time to actually do something productive. The Gamemakers and Head Trainer needs to see some real talent now.

Cove is at the throwing knives station, Nero is at the sword station, Olivine is wandering around aimlessly, Adam is at the trident station, and Mariel is at the knot-tying station.

Ivonette is still at the Gauntlet station, Cama is at the net-climbing station, and Amara is at the plant-identification station.

Do I go to another station that is already preoccupied and make everyone jealous? Or do I do something by myself?

Decisions, decisions.

In my peripheral vision, I notice one area that seems to be calling my name – the hand-to-hand combat station.

The District Twelve male, Caolan, and his petty allies, the District Nine male, Noah, and the District Eleven male, Dresden.

See, this argument that I am about to start has a purpose – my enjoyment.

I fix my training suit, run my hand through my hair, and put a glistening smile on my face. I must make myself look presentable to a bunch of male tributes.

It's all about the show here, and that's exactly what I am about to give them.

I strut towards the hand-to-hand combat, with my hand on my hip and protruding all of my facial features. I throw my shoulders forward, push my pelvis slightly forward, and keep myself balanced. With each stride, I lift my foot a good distance off of the ground.

Diffidence can be damaging, and there's nothing better than a pretty girl with confidence.

Once one of the boys glances at me, I wink and wave at them. Even though both Noah and Dresden are young at the age of twelve and thirteen respectively, age is only a number. Besides, Caolan is fifteen, and that is only a few years less than I am.

"Hi, boys," I say flirtatiously.

The youngest one, Noah, whispers something into Dresden's ear, and then steps back a few steps. Dresden follows and steps back a few steps, but Caolan steps forward, reducing the distance between us. Caolan is only a few inches from me, and he barely comes up to my chest with his height.

I reach out my hand, pat Caolan on the head, and then he giggles. He just stands there, staring in awe, without moving. I grab both of his shoulders and spin him around. We both face the hand-to-hand combat station now, and then I point at it. Caolan looks at me with a perplexed look on his face and all I do in return is nod.

"Are you ready to get down-and-dirty, Caolan?" I whisper into his ear.

The trainer at the station holds out his hand, gesturing for one of us to step up onto the mat. I shake my head and in disapproval, and then point at Caolan and myself.

"Sorry, that's not allowed."

I wink, "I'll keep it friendly."

"The rules state that you cannot fight with the other tributes."

I begin to step closer to the trainer, making sure to take my time between each step. The trainer crosses his arms over his shoulders, creating a barrier between me and him.

"Please?" I whimper.

"The rules state that you cannot fight with the other tributes," he repeats.

I roll my eyes, "You're boring."

"If you aren't going to follow the rules, you aren't allowed to be here."

"Don't speak to me in that tone, or _else_."

"Or else what, Velour?"

The new voice is disembodied, and without seeing the person who actually said it, I cannot identify who the person speaking is. I flip my hair over my shoulder and put my hand on my hip, but I don't turn around. I might as well draw some attention to myself.

I guffaw, "Who do we have here?"

"I'll give you one hint: Someone who would actually want to talk to you."

Now that the voice is closer to me and more identifiable, I instantly realize who it is – Cove. He's my District partner, and Cove and I banter all of the time, but when it comes down to it, we have each other's backs. He might not be the strongest tribute in my alliance, but he's a valuable ally and definitely someone that could actually win these games.

"Oh please, Cove."

Cove laughs, "Let's go join the others."

Cove and I interlock arms and stroll back towards our other allies. Nero, Olivine, Adam, and Mariel are all at the center of the Training Center talking to each other. Cove and I are only a few steps away from our allies, but I stop immediately once I see Seer and the District Seven male, Tobias, looking at me. I stare at the two of them, and in return, they stare back. We stare at each other for at least a minute, and then Seer opens her mouth, but doesn't actually say anything.

Seer mouths two words at me: _District Deficit_.

I begin to feel nauseous and grasp onto Cove's arm for support. He wraps both of his arms around me and pulls me up. I can barely stand, and I sit down on the ground. Nero, Olivine, Adam, and Mariel rush over and all of them stand around me. I drop my head down into my hands and begin to whimper.

_District Deficit._

How could she know of this?

Seer has been sly the last few days, and I haven't heard much about her or seen much of her. I wonder where she had learned of such a thing, and what she is truly hiding. Just from this one small gesture, she seems mischievous, but I won't reveal her secret just yet. I'll play along with it, giving her the satisfaction she wants, and then I'll ruin it all at once.

The last time I heard that name was back in District One. I was walking around the wealthier part of the District, going from store-to-store, purchasing whatever my heart desired. After I came out of one store, I heard someone holler 'Lady Deficit', but I didn't know where the voice was coming from. I wasn't sure what it meant at the time, but after thinking about it constantly, I realized that it was derogatory.

They were being rude to me. Of all people, they were being rude to me; not my mother, father, my servants, or any other official in District One. They criticize and reprimanded me for my spending habits. Admittedly, I do spend a lot of money quite often, but I don't see how that could affect them. I never understood why it was such a big deal, but then I finally caught on; it was because the more money I spend, the higher the taxes are, which means there are more unhappy people.

Now thinking about it, this could be related to the day of the reaping. There were people outside with signs, and I didn't know why they were there or what they were doing. It was probably a protest, and there is no better day than the reaping to protest something.

This also reminds me of the actual reaping. I was reaped, which was surprise to some of the other Careers. When I was reaped, it was silent, and no one volunteered for me. At the time, I never thought about it, but it all makes sense now. They wanted me to be reaped, and I am sure they would have done anything they could to get me reaped. I have never heard of a rigged reaping, though.

Unless it was. But why wouldn't my father do anything against it?

What if he felt the same way? What if _everyone_ felt the same way?

_Keep your head up, Velour. Keep smiling, Velour. Keep doing what you're doing, Velour._

_You're better than all of this._


	10. Training Day Three

**Robin Sherrell  
District Three Male, 16 Years Old**

* * *

Gripping the sickle in my hand, the grip is uncomfortable and my hand is having trouble supporting all of the weight. I hold it different ways, trying to find the preferred and most comfortable way to hold this tool. I finally find a position that I like, holding the sickle the opposite way in my right hand; the grip facing towards my left and the blade towards my right.

The dummy is situated in front of me, the fake arms at its side and its head propped up. I test the sickle out, wrapping the blade around the dummy's neck, and put enough pressure to cut a small slit in its neck. I recoil the sickle, tearing the head off of the dummy in the process. Or attempting to, since the head is still dangling on it by a few pieces of fabric. With the grip of the sickle, I punch the head off, the cotton in the dummy falling everywhere. I kick the cotton to the side, and get into a position to strike the dummy again.

I tear at the body of the dummy, shredding it into pieces, the cotton flying everywhere. The sickle slips out of my hand for a quick second, and I catch it before it falls to the ground. I rest the sickle on the ground, catching my breath after all the strenuous activity I have just done.

"The sickle is supposed to be held the other way."

The voice came from behind me, and it definitely sounds like a younger tribute, probably male. I turn around to see the District Eleven male standing behind me, holding a sickle in his hand the _proper_ way. The way _everyone_ does it. The way _I_ don't.

"Is it really?" I ask, speaking in an asinine tone.

"That's what everyone in District Eleven did, so yes, it is," he says, smiling.

I nod, backing up a few steps, and once I am in the clear, I walk away. I keep walking, letting the boy figure out what to do with himself. I don't particularly care if he's offended or not, since he did confront of me, didn't he? So he learned his lesson, then. Next time, don't come up to me, and you won't be offended. It's that simple.

The boy did have a point, but what does it matter? I do what I want. I do things on my own terms, regardless of what people say. The sickle isn't necessarily tailored for District Eleven citizens; it's just what they're familiar with. They do work with it, I know for a fact, and they probably work with it frequently. District Three, on the other hands, is familiar with wires, circuits, and gadgets.

Tributes from Eleven usually use pitchforks or sickles, while tributes from Three usually use electricity or traps.

I, on the other hand, will use a sickle. And I will fight with a sickle. And I will not use electricity or traps. And I will not fight with electricity or traps.

I pass the trap-making station, cringing at the tributes that are there. Of course, Kaelyn, my District partner, is there, working with the trainer. It's not that I don't like Kaelyn or anything; it's just that she can get irksome, if you will. Her arrogance is dominant in her personality, but not all the time, and when she is modest, she's actually nice and friendly.

The type of people I can't associate myself with.

Plus, she's been nagging me to ally with her. I don't see the significance of an alliance; I mean, sure, you need allies, but you only get attached to them. Allies die, and then what? You're alone, without an ally, so either way, you're going to be alone at one point.

Kaelyn notices me looking at her, and she smiles and waves me over, but I pretend not to notice her. She calls my names a few times, the voice getting closer and louder. I turn my head and try to walk away, but an arm grabs me and starts to pull me towards the station.

"I want to do something else, Kaelyn," I spit out, sounding as brusque as possible. "Without _you._"

Kaelyn giggles a bit, prancing back over to the trap-making station. We arrive at the station, and the trainer wanders around us, waiting for us to ask for help. Kaelyn is playing around with a few random materials and places some of them in front of me. I push them to the side, unwilling to use them in any way, shape, or form. Kaelyn looks up, sighs, and stares at me attentively.

"You don't mean that."

"Mean what?"

"Anything you say and do, really."

"Enlighten me, Kaelyn. What are you aware of that makes you so intelligent?" I ask, a sense of bitterness in my voice.

Kaelyn lets out a small laughter, and continues playing with the materials. "The way you act, and the things you say about allies, for that matter."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I say, my lip trembling.

"There you go again," she says, pointing out my act. "I've caught on to you, Robin."

"Yet you're still as ignorant as ever, Kaelyn."

"Perhaps, but at least I know that you and I need allies. You just don't want to face the facts."

"The facts?"

"That you need an ally. It's simple, really; most people ally with their District partner, don't they?"

_Most people do, but I don't. I'm not like most people. I am me, and you are you, Kaelyn. We are not the same._

She continues, "Besides, you don't look like someone who would want to ally with their District partner."

_Clever._

Kaelyn has truly caught on. She knows that I don't follow what people say, and I do things on my terms. Reverse-psychology might be clever in her part, but I still don't know whether I want to know. If she can figure out me so quickly, I wonder what else she could do. Maybe she is intelligent, and I am only interpreting her by my own judgments and opinions. Just because she said that, I have to ally with her, don't I? Or else I'll be a hypocrite.

"Fine," I mumble inaudibly.

"What was that, Robin? Can you say it a little louder?"

I grit my teeth, "I said fine. We can be allies, but promise me one thing."

Kaelyn brings her face closer to mine, "Hm?"

"Leave me alone," I whisper into her ear. "For the rest of today, at least."

Kaelyn pushes both of my shoulders with her hands gently, giggling like a small-child. I stand up and shoot her a glare, and she doesn't look offended in the least bit. I walk away, turning my back to her.

"Have fun, Robin, and don't miss me too much."

I fight back the urge to turn around and retort something, and force myself to keep walking. I wander around the Training Center, trying to figure out something to do, but I can't find anything that seems interesting enough. I poke a spear at that station, poke a sword at that station, poke an arrow at that station, but none of it is intriguing me enough.

None of this intriguing. The Training Center, the Games, the Capitol.

Even though I technically prefer being here than District Three, I must admit, I miss it a little. District Three was so familiar to me, and I was so accustomed to my routines. But, then I think about the people, and what they stand for.

Even the Capitol has many similarities between the people, but not as significant as District Three. Sure, the Capitol citizens dress in odd colors and have an odd fashion sense, but it's better than the drab clothes in District Three. Even the architecture here is better than District Three. I don't know if the people themselves are better, and even if I did, I don't know if I could answer that.

I didn't really have any friends in District Three, and if I did, I didn't genuinely like them. They were, and they were fun, but I didn't get any satisfaction from them. They were all so alike, and that's what I didn't like.

Why not be individuals with distinct personalities? But maybe they didn't care about that as much as I do.

Even in my family, my mom and dad are nice people and I really do like them. Even though I never acted the same around them all the time, they were there for me. They'll weep when, or if, I die, and they'll cheer if I do well. They support me regardless, and even though I never showed any affection to them, they were still there for me.

What if they don't care as much as being different either?

What if I'm wrong for being the way I am?

_That's just what they want you to think. They all have the same opinion and think the way you act is wrong, which makes them the same._

_You're different, Robin. And different is better._

* * *

**Harley Astaire  
District Six Male, 16 Years Old**

* * *

Straddling the arrow on the bow-string, I release the arrow, sending it gliding through the air. After only a few seconds, it loses its velocity, gradually dropping to the ground. It eventually hits the ground, skidding a few more feet. I grunt in dissatisfaction, dropping the bow down to my side and stomping my foot.

"Would you like any help?"

The trainer comes closer to me, picking up the bow on the ground. I inhale deeply, still dissatisfied with my attempts at archery. The trainer waits there, awaiting a response from me.

"No, I don't want your _help_," I retort, my voice expressionless.

The trainer looks taken back a bit and I stand there, watching him carefully. Neither of us moves a muscle, and then I pensively look into his eyes, and all I see is an offended person, saddened that he asked me anything.

"I'm… I'm sorry," I say broadly, taking the bow out of his hands. "I am just flustered with archery."

The trainer nods acceptingly, and walks back over towards the edges of the station, helping out another tribute. I make eye contact with him one more time, and he still doesn't look too happy with me. Whenever I get mad at someone, or someone is mad at me for whatever reason, I feel bad. I feel genuinely bad, and it is so opposed to my natural behavior that I must be apologetic. I don't care how many times it takes to get my apology across; I must make them forgive me.

I walk away from the archery station, watching the Gamemakers sitting on a balcony. They keep pointing at tributes, whispering into each other's ears, and taking notes. I stand there quietly, watching the Gamemakers every movements, trying to think of what they are saying.

_What if they're talking about me?_

Well, if they are, that would be a good thing. Unless it's something bad, that is. They could be mocking me, ridiculing me, judging me, and even planning my death. I daze off, thinking of the endless possibilities that the Gamemakers could be thinking of, and that's when I hear a distinct noise in my head.

_Lub-dub… Lub-dub… Lub-dub… Lub-dub…_

I freeze in my spot, placing my hand over my heart in a panicky motion. That's my heartbeat… does everyone hear their heartbeat?

No, no. Something's wrong with me. I know it. It must be a flu again, or, or, or a cold. A disease. I'm sick, aren't I?

I stand there, still listening to my heartbeat, waiting for the sound of it to leave my head. They continue, and they are getting much more rapid and loud.

_I'm dying! Someone help me!_

I fan myself with my hands, seeing if that will soothe me, but it does nothing else. I'm probably having a stroke. Or a heart-attack. Maybe even a rare disease that not even the Capitol has learned about yet.

_I'm going to be a Capitol testing subject, aren't I? They're going to use my blood and do tests on me!_

Suddenly, a hand grabs my arm, and just from the extremely pale skin I know it's Ivonette, my District Partner. I spin around, wrapping my arms around Ivonette, trying to find comfort and tranquility.

"Ivonette! Thank goodness you have come to save me!"

Ivonette lets out a snort, prying my hands off of her. She steps back, and I begin to hyperventilate. Maybe she gave me the disease? Or maybe she's trying to assassinate me? It must be!

"Calm down, pretty boy."

How could she tell me to 'calm down'? I'm on the verge of dying!

No matter how many times people trying to convince me I'm fine, I still believe that my health is never perfect. There is always something wrong with me – a flu, a cold, a disease, any form of sickness – and I believe that sweating and nosebleeds happen to me because I'm _me_. Someone's out to get me, or maybe it's just my body itself? Trying to deteriorate myself to get rid of me?

_My body is trying to get rid of me before the Games even start!_

Ivonette is still standing there, smiling like a hooligan, obviously not caring about me and my problems. I calm down a little just by looking at Ivonette, who seems to be in pristine condition. I shake my head, ridding my mind of all of these thoughts.

"Now, Ivonette, how about you teach me some of your tricks?" I ask, winking.

"I'll teach you one, Harley, but you'll have to beg for the rest."

"Enlighten me, Ivonette," I reply seductively.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Ivonette comes closer to me, bringing her head to my ear. She puckers her lips a few times, the sound of saliva making me feel uneasy. She opens her mouth, the exhale of air making my skin feel uncomfortable.

"Get over yourself," she whispers. "There is nothing wrong with you."

With that, she walks away, bobbing her head from side-to-side with every stride. I point a finger at her, watching her walk away and go to another station. She makes small conversation with the female from Nine, but after a minute or so, the female from Nine just gets up and walks away.

For sure, I've heard of Ivonette back in District Six. It wasn't bad things per say, but she was definitely the topic of several peoples' conversations. I don't know why she was, but it probably had something do with her appearance, I assume. Being pale isn't immoral, is it? So, I don't see the big deal. She's nice, really, even if she's a bit sarcastic and cocky.

District Six always kept the gossip going around, anyway. Even about the littlest things. Personally, I liked District Six and I never had anything against it. Where I lived, there were a bunch of strange people around me. District Six was truly the home to the strangest people with problems in way or another.

Take District Six's only victor, Melina. She was sixteen at the time when she participated in the Thirteenth Hunger Games. At first, she seemed normal, but once she hit that arena, she was – how do you say – different. Different in a morbid way, I guess. As soon as the Games start, she tackled one of the younger tributes, tearing their skin off and brutally killing them with her own hands. She was deranged in a way, but I won't judge, since she did bring District Six a victor.

I would never act the same way in the Hunger Games as she did. Even if I tried, my constant deadly headaches and my diseased body wouldn't let me. One thing is for sure, I know I don't like the Hunger Games. I think it's cruel and murderous to even think of killing another person. I don't find any appeal in killing someone, but I know I might have to at least once in the arena. The Careers are the biggest offender here, seeing as they strive to murder others.

I hate the Careers for sure, but I don't know what to think of the Capitol. The Capitol favors the Career Districts, so it would make sense for me to hate the Capitol too, but I just can't put my finger on my opinion of them. I feel like a lot of the people I know resemble the citizens in the Capitol because, you know, they're not all there in the head.

Maybe I'm just thinking strangely.

I turn around, facing the opposite side of the Training Center now. The Careers are standing there, talking loudly, laughing, and pointing at some of the tributes. The District One female, Velour is her name, glances at me, and does a quick double-take. She's looking at me now, ignoring her allies, with her hand on her hip and her head tilted to the side.

I bite my lip, acting seductive, and she reacts with a bubbly laughter. Her allies walk away, leaving her alone, and she leans back against the wall and plays with her hair. I stay where I am too and continue to smile at her, winking a few times too. After a while of us just staring at each other, neither of us moving, we finally look away. I still look at her from the corner of my eye, though, and see the girl from District Two tug her towards the spear station. I turn back around, and as she walks away, she turns back and blows me a kiss.

_Score._

At least I made myself known to someone. A pretty girl, too, so that's even better. Still, she'd probably want to kill me in the arena, anyway, but you never know, she could be a fun time. And there's only one way to figure that out.

Being flirtatious isn't as easy it seems. To me, it comes natural, and plus, I have good looks, which helps. Back in District Six, I knew a lot of girls, and they knew me back, but I never had a girlfriend or anything. I don't crave relationships or anything of that nature, but if you have the talent of being flirty, you might as well use it. With people, I know what I want, and I know how to get it. I don't brag about my flirtatiousness, either, since that only makes people jealous.

Jealousy isn't the best trait to have.

That girl – the one from One – could be thinking the same thing as I am now. She is just as flirty and good-looking, but she is a Career. I don't necessarily hate Careers, I just don't agree with what they do. I would never think of joining there alliance, either, even though they would never ask me to join. I don't have the strength or arrogance, but I do have the looks and personality. In the Games, it's the strength that matters, not so much the personality.

That doesn't mean I'll give up, though, just because I don't have what it takes to be a Career. I will still try to win for myself, and for my family and friends. I will do whatever it takes to win, and I will not let anything get in my way.

Except for my health issues, though. Those might ruin my chances of winning. Every little thing I do, something in my body hurts and feels as if I'm dying already. Maybe it's a sign, though, that I am destined to die, but I doubt it. I'll just have to overcome my health issues and try my hardest in the Games.

_But what if I strain a muscle or pop a blood vessel from trying too hard?_

* * *

**Amara Dane  
District Twelve Female, 18 Years Old**

* * *

_Layla._

The name recalls in my mind as I attentively watch the two little girls from Five and Eight. They remind of her; their looks, their movements, their personalities. Everything about them just reminds me of… _her_.

The girl from Five is at a big screen, playing some matching-game, while the girl from Eight is standing near the climbing station, not doing anything. Layla would probably be doing the same thing as these two girls. I'm sure she was too, when she was in the Games, that is.

In the Games without me; her big sister. The sister that was supposed to protect her, but failed. I failed to do what I was supposed to do, and I can't forgive myself for doing that.

When Layla was in the Games, it was the Fifteenth Hunger Games. Layla didn't do too well at her private session, receiving a training score of one as a result. She died first. She didn't just die quickly, either, she was tortured. She tried to escape, but she fell of a ledge, but didn't just fell, really. She was pushed by her District partner. She fell to the ground, the Careers sprinting after her even before she reached the ground. Layla had no chance of escape or survival at that point. Her hands were tied up and she was hung from the tip of the Cornucopia by her hands by the males from Districts One, Two, and Four, and was humiliated. Knives were thrown at her, arrows were shot at her, and spears were poked at her. They left her there, hanging there for a few more minutes until she finally died.

When I saw her exhale for that last time, I dropped to my knees, screaming in anguish. I failed to protect her and keep her safe. In a way, I feel that it is my destiny to be in the Games. I wasn't scared of being reaped, and I'm not scared of death. When I die, I'll be with Layla. I'll be reunited with Layla, the girl who I lost because I was a bad sister. I should have volunteered to her, but when she was reaped, it came as a shock. I wasn't sure what to do.

But now, I'm in the Hunger Games. And, in the arena, I will avenge my sister's death. I will, and nothing can stop it. She wasn't supposed to die, but I let it happen. She was so young and innocent, being only twelve years old at the time. It was her first reaping, and she was the first one to die.

I failed to protect her. I failed to be the sister I was supposed to be. I failed to do anything right.

But, with these girls, I will prove something. I will ally with them, protect them, and ensure one of their victories. First, I just have to get them to ally with me. Second, I have to get sponsors for us. Third, in the arena, I will put them before me. And lastly, when the numbers dwindle down, I will join my sister and let one of these girls win.

It won't be easy, though, but nothing ever is.

Life back in District Twelve wasn't easy, either. I worked in mines, paying for my parents' medication and my family's food. My parents were always sick, lying in bed most of the day, and it was only me and my grandmother after my sister died. She was old, but she wasn't sick. She did work around the house, but she didn't have an actual job. Only I had a job and actually made any money and food for our family.

Life's a challenge, isn't it? Well, challenge accepted.

I walk forward, treading slowly towards the girl from Five. From where I am, I can hear her giggling and mumbling to herself, still playing a game on the big screen in front of her. She doesn't notice me walking towards her and I go up to her and stand next to her. She is about to press the wrong button, and I press the right button, a bright green check appearing on the screen.

Giggling, she smiles, "Thank you!"

I nod, smiling back at her. She continues playing with the screen, not paying much attention to me. Talking to such a young child isn't the same as talking to an adult, so I need to talk to her as nicely and gently as possible.

"I'm Amara, from District Twelve. What's your name?"

"Minx!" She squeaks, tapping her finger against the screen.

"It's nice to meet you, Minx," I reply with a smile. "Would you like any help?"

Minx turns her head towards me and smiles. "Nope! But, I do have a question."

"I have an answer!" I say, laughing as I speak.

She tugs at my training outfit, and she gestures for me to kneel down. She comes up to my hip about, and is a lot shorter than me. I kneel down, and she brings her face closer to my ear.

"You're older than me, and you know how to get allies," she whispers. "How do you get allies?"

"All you have to do is ask, Minx," I whisper back. "Why? Do you need ally?"

"I do!" She says loudly, hurting my ear a little. "I was thinking about the girl from Eight."

I tilt my head, "Oh? Were you now?"

"Yes," she replies, "but she doesn't look too talkative."

"Is that the only ally you want?"

Minx shrugs, "I don't know if anyone else would want to. Who are your allies?"

I stand back up, "I don't have any. Do you think I could ally with you?"

Minx gasps, her mouth agape. "You want to ally with me? But you're old!"

I hold out my hand, waiting for her to grab it. "I do, Minx. I really do. Now, let's get another ally, shall we?"

She interlocks her hand in mine, and she begins to skip towards the other female, dragging me along with her. The girl from Eight is still standing near the climbing station, staring into the corner of the room, her back turned towards everyone. She doesn't too social, but I hope she wants an ally. We all need allies.

"Excuse me!" Minx shouts, trying to get the attention of the girl.

The girl doesn't even flinch, probably because she doesn't even know that Minx is talking to her. We get closer and closer to the girl, and once we are standing behind her, she still doesn't move. Minx says something, but I can't hear what she said.

"Hello? I'm Amara and this is Minx."

I open my mouth to speak again, but Minx interrupts me. "What's your name?"

There is a long pause, with no answers or any movements. Minx starts playing with her hands, interlocking her fingers and making weird gestures with them. I stand there, glancing behind me every few seconds, making sure no one is watching us.

"What's your name?" Minx repeats.

After Minx asks, it goes back to silence. The girl isn't responding at all, whether through speaking or movements. A few minutes pass of us just standing here, and I finally decide to speak up.

"Well, we were just wondering if you'd like to ally with us."

After a few more minutes of us just standing there, Minx finally gets impatient. She tries to turn around, attempting to walk away, but I gently grab her shoulder and keep her in place. We wait a few more seconds, and that's when we finally decide to give up. Both of us turn around to walk, but then a small voice speaks from behind us.

"My name is Quole and I'd like to ally with you."

"Yes!" Minx shouts, a quiet squeak in her voice.

Minx wraps her arms around Quole from behind her, and Quole still doesn't flinch or move at all. I smile, knowing that I am now allies with the two of them.

The first part is now complete, but now, I have to get us sponsors. I'm used to doing things for people, but it really matters now, seeing as this is a life-or-death situation. It doesn't matter how I get sponsors; all that matter is that I have them and that they will help my alliance.

Although my alliance isn't the strongest – compared to the Careers – we still have something. Besides, strength doesn't always beat brains, does it? No one knows what the arena is and what could happen in the arena. The future is unknown, and I can make all the predictions I want, regardless if they are true or not.

Would Layla be proud of me now? Have I redeemed myself? I can only hope so.

If I were given the chance to relive one moment in my life, it would the reaping where Layla got reaped. This time, I would volunteer for her, and go into the Games instead of her. I can't get over the fact that she still could have gotten reaped, though. If I died in the Games, she would have lost a sister, and if she were to get reaped again, she would go into the Games without me.

I'm facing those circumstances now. I'm in the Games without my sister, and I will die too. I will die for these girls, no matter what, and I will make sure one of them will win.

Winning doesn't seem that great, anyway. You return home, become popular, get wealth, and then what? You live life, remembering the events that took place in your Games, the memories never leaving you. You become scarred, and will regret every moment you survived in the Games.

Death seems intriguing now, doesn't it?

I'm not suicidal, and I shall cherish my time in this world, but when the time comes, I won't fight against it. Fate has decided when I will die, who will kill me, and who will remember and miss me. And, when I die, I will be reunited with my sister.

_And that's all I wish for – to be with my sister again. _


	11. Gamemaker Sessions

**Adam Kent  
District Four Male, 17 Years Old**

* * *

"Velour Versailles."

Before the robotic voice can even finish speaking, a giggle erupts from the end of the bench. Looking to see who it came from, it's no other than the girl whose name was called, Velour. She stands up rather dramatically, throwing her hair over her shoulders and prancing through the doors. I must admit, she is attractive, but not as beautiful as Gwen is.

Besides Velour's looks, her personality isn't comparable to Gwen's too. Velour is one of those prissy girls, always whining and making a scene. She's two-face as well, always acting friendly to Olivine, and then talking about her behind her back. I wouldn't be surprised if she talked about the rest of us behind our backs, but trust me, her opinion doesn't matter to me.

If it came down to it, I would kill her in a second. A girl like her shouldn't obstruct my victory. Scratch that – _no one_ should be able to obstruct my victory.

Soon after, as the doors are opening, you can hear the same giggle as Velour walks back out the doors. She walks past her District partner completely, going straight towards the doors. As she walks past the District Three male, she winks, and as she walks past me, she blows a kiss. Resisting the urge to say something to her, I turn my head the other way.

"Cove Barley."

The male from District One, Cove, waits until the voice is done. Once it finishes saying his name, he stands up and stretches dramatically. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, and flexes his muscles. I smirk at him, holding back my laughter.

Cove is a clown. It's simple as that, really. He's always joking around and never takes things seriously, but it still makes me laugh. I figure I should enjoy the time I have with these people while I'm in the Capitol, than rather in the arena where they would want to kill me. Cove doesn't seem like the backstabber-type, but for all I know, he could be privately allying with another member of the Career alliance. I wouldn't be surprised if it were Velour.

Unfortunately, I don't think Cove has what it takes to be victor, though. He has no sense of personal space, isn't the most mature person, and is a little naïve. During training, he went around asking different tributes about their past lives in their home-Districts. I know his father is a victor from District One and his mother is from District Nine, but he shouldn't be spending his time doing that during training. He could be doing more important things.

I, on the other hand, spent my time wisely in training.

"Olivine Keenan."

_No._

I cringe as I hear her name, turning my side so I don't make any eye-contact with her. It's not that I don't like Olivine, it's just that she reminds me too much of Gwen. And Gwen can be the only thing on my mind, no one else; especially not a girl like Olivine who I barely even know. I only like Olivine with lust, not genuine feelings like Gwen.

No one else can have my heart except Gwen, even if she doesn't accept it just yet.

Also compared to Gwen, Olivine isn't anyway near Gwen's perfection. Just like Velour, Olivine is prissy and obnoxious. She is always gossiping about tributes, bullying them, and making herself feel better. Some people are like that, though, but what do I now? They could have a problem or something. I'm not one to judge, but that doesn't mean I have to like someone, either.

I guess I just have high standards. Gwen, for example, isn't just your average-day girl; she's something special.

"Nero Recknor."

Without even realizing it, Olivine has walked back out and the next person is already going in. Nero, the male from District Two, is already through the doors before I can look at him.

Nero is stoic, to say the least. Whenever he talks, it has purpose, but besides that, he keeps to himself and doesn't participate in group discussions. Maybe he's playing it better than I am, though, by not speaking or trusting anyone. The only thing I really know about him is that his dad is a victor. Not just any victor; he's the victor of the First Hunger Games.

I wonder how that affected him, to be honest. If my father was a victor, I would feel the need to impress him. I would need to live up to him, but I'm not sure how Nero feels. Maybe he doesn't even care and he only volunteered for himself.

Nero's session is over, and I see him walk straight past everyone. He doesn't even look or say something to anyone, and he walks out of long hallway, his head held up high.

Nero might gain popularity because he personally knows a victor, but I also know one too – Zachary.

"Kaelyn Taitrin."

The girl from District Three, Kaelyn, stands up and pats her District partner on his shoulder. She walks through the doors, the doors closing behind her. The hallway goes silent, probably because not too many people have something to say about her.

I really don't have anything to say about her either. Not that she's weak or inferior, it's just because I have never spoken to her. I have barely interacted with her too; mostly because I don't think it's necessary to talk to anyone you don't need to. Velour, on the other hand, has the need to make unnecessary enemies and be hostile.

I won't underestimate her, though, because she could have her own tricks up her sleeve.

"Robin Sherrell."

Kaelyn stays for a second, wishing him luck as he passes by her. Robin just shrugs his shoulders and walks through the doors. Kaelyn stands there, her eyes narrowed, and sits back down on the bench.

Robin is one of the Careers – mostly Velour and Olivine's – enemies. I'm not entirely sure why, since all he did was say a few things. Velour and Olivine got mad for someone reason, shrieking and attracting the attention of the whole Training Center, and then everything escalated from there. They pledged that both of them would kill him, but honestly, I don't care for him. I feel indifferent towards him, even.

Robin is just another tribute that is in the way for my victory. Just another obstacle that I will have to overcome.

"Mariel Seavey."

I smile as my District partner gets up, her red hair flowing behind her as she saunters towards the doors. The doors close behind her and I slouch back against the wall.

I like Mariel, I really do. Even if she's quiet and reserved, she's nice. She's nice to the point that doesn't bother me, though. She can be selfless at times, and despite me being called selfish, I admire that in her. I know she volunteered for a young girl, which says a lot about her as a person.

I feel protective over her too, especially when it comes to Olivine. Olivine is always bugging her; twirling Mariel's hair, saying things that make Mariel feel uncomfortable, and mocking District Four. I always stick up for her too, whether it's to another ally or someone from an outer-District, it doesn't matter. I can't but help feel some sort of feelings for Mariel, even though I try to convince myself I don't.

Mariel walks back out, and we make eye-contact, and I smile. She smiles back, and I stand up and meet her halfway. I look deeply into her eyes, trying to think of something to say.

_There is nothing between you and Mariel, Adam. You love Gwen._

"Adam Kent."

Mariel moves to the side, gesturing for me to go, and I begin to walk forward. I look back every few footsteps, trying to see if Mariel is still watching me. She is, and she smiles every time I look back. As I approach the doors, they open automatically, and I step through them. Turning to look back at Mariel one last time, I catch a quick glimpse of her before the doors shut closed.

I turn back around, facing a long hallway in front of me. It's only lit a little, and it is sort of dark. I walk forward, getting faster and faster as I get closer to the entrance into the Training Center. I reach the end of the hallway and walk into the Training Center.

Once I walk in, the first thing I notice is all of the green in the room. The Gamemakers don't intrigue me as much as the random trees, plants, and flowers all over the place. Covering one whole wall is full of green plants and flowers, and on the ground, there are at least ten tables full of survival skills. On the opposite side of the room are all of the weapons. In the middle, there is nothing, and I walk directly down the middle towards the Gamemakers' balcony.

"Adam Kent, District Four."

After I state my name and District confidently and broadly, I walk over to the weaponry. There are is a variety of every type of weapon, definitely tailored to the interests and talents of each tribute. The things that catch my eye, though, are the spears and nets. I swiftly grab a net and spear, and prepare myself.

These next few minutes are the most important minutes during the Capitol. You only have a few minutes to prove yourself to the Gamemakers, and you most certainly do not want to waste your time in here.

I grip the spear in my right hand and the net in my left hand. I count to five in my head, and once I hit five, I sprint forward, directing myself towards the furthest dummy in the room. As I get closer, I lift my arm in the air while still running. I throw the net towards the dummy, the net wrapping itself around it, and in real life, that would trap a person and make them lose their balance and fall. I run around the dummy to the opposite side, or the back of it, and stand in a fighting position. With one quick flick of the arm, I launch the spear towards it, the spear embedding itself in the back of the dummy, probably going all the way to the middle of it.

I compose myself, recollecting my mind and trying to catch my breath. The Gamemakers are all standing up out of their seats, whispering to each other. I turn on my heel, walking back towards the hallway where all of the other tributes are sitting. Without looking back at them, I walk out of the Training Center and proceed towards the doors. In front of me, the doors open automatically, and I walk through them.

All of the tributes' eyes are on me now, and for once, I feel accomplished. I feel like I did the right thing, unlike be myself back in District Four, which made Gwen's dad want her to break up with me. Maybe, just maybe, I can prove myself to him. Here, I was being myself, and hopefully got a high training score.

At the end of the hallway is Mariel, leaning against the wall, and once she realizes me standing here, she smiles and waves me over. Without even thinking about it, my legs start walking towards her and my mouth is formed into a smile.

_Why can't I help but feel this way? You're not Gwen, Mariel… but what if you're the one for me?_

* * *

**Quole Issa  
District Eight Female, 14 Years Old**

* * *

"Minx Hyede."

Minx gets up from her seat and prances towards the doors. She walks into the doors, being quicker than the automatic doors, and then stumbles back a little. She recollects herself and walks through them, humming a tune to herself.

Minx is my ally. Well, one of them. I like her a lot too, even if I don't talk to her much. She always talks to me, saying the most random things and getting distracted all the time. That's just it, though; I can't keep up with her. I never want to say the wrong thing to her, and once I figure out a good response, she changes the subject completely.

I'm not sure how she will manage in that room either. I don't know if she has any skills or not, except for her intelligence. She really is smart, but she has a hard time showing it. During Training, she spent most of her time in the camouflage area and at some screen playing some game. She did pretty well, I must admit, so maybe she knows what she's doing. I _hope _she knows what she's doing.

Her foreseeable future is blurry.

The doors open back up after a few minutes, and Minx comes prancing back out. She pokes her District partner in the cheek, and then she starts skipping out of the hallway. As she passes me, she widens her eyes and sticks out her tongue. My thoughts are interrupted by the robotic voice.

"Sinter Farwood."

Minx's District partner, Sinter, quietly walks through the doors. No one really pays attention to him or anything, and I go back to my thoughts.

Sinter, well, I don't know. He's one of those people that don't talk a lot and are very quiet. He's like me, in a way, but he doesn't talk because he just doesn't want to, I guess. I take a long time to respond because I never want to see mess anything up. Minx and Sinter talked once in a while, but they never had any real conversations; it was always small encounters and kind words to each other.

His foreseeable future is clear.

Sinter comes back out, walking past everyone on the bench. His face is expressionless and he doesn't even look like he's breathing.

"Ivonette Frost."

A guffaw comes from someone on the bench, and when I look to see who it is, I realize that it is Ivonette herself. She stands up, the blaring lights illuminating her pale skin. She throws her hands up in the air and walks towards the doors.

Ivonette isn't like Minx or Sinter. She isn't like anyone else really, and it's not just because of her appearance, even if she's the palest person here. She's loud and obnoxious, and at times, cocky. People always wonder why a young girl like me notices these things, but I am always watching. I sit there quietly, observing every little thing about people. Ivonette is just one of those people that are perceived by others easily. Well, for all I know, she's cocky and obnoxious. Not everyone is what they seem.

Her foreseeable future is clear.

"Harley Astaire."

As Ivonette exits the hallway, after coming out from her private session, her District partner enters the Training Center. The only noise in the hallway is the doors closing, and then it goes back to complete silence after they close.

Harley is just as interesting as Ivonette. He's very dramatic, to say the least. One day, in the Training Center, I was watching him. I was watching him flirt with the District One female, Velour. After both of them walked away, Velour was talking to her alliance. She was mocking him, saying how foolish and immature he was. Harley obviously didn't hear him, but I wonder if he would have cared that she was talking about him. Who am I to judge, though?

His foreseeable future is blurry.

Harley comes back out, sitting down on the edge of the bench afterwards. He lifts up his pants and begins to itch his leg. I wonder why he's doing that, since it doesn't look like anything's wrong. He flinches as the robotic voice begins to talk again.

"Seer Brine."

The girl from Seven stands up, and limply walks towards the doors. She steps through them, and I look at her District partner, who is just staring at the floor.

Seer is an underdog, I guess you could say. She keeps to herself, except with her District partner, but it's ironic; she doesn't seem like the type of person to be like that. She's rather muscular, for being female, and looks athletic. Perhaps she's against killing, or perhaps she's just one of those tributes who try to keep low on the radar. Either way, I don't know much about her, and that bothers me. I haven't paid much attention to her, and I really should have.

Her foreseeable future is blurry.

"Tobias Cress."

Tobias and Seer pass by each other, whispering something into each other's ear. My eyes follow Seer as she walks out of the hallway, not paying attention to Tobias entering the Training Center.

In a way, Tobias is like Seer. He usually keeps to himself, especially when Tobias and Seer are interacting with other tributes. I figured that they're allies because they spend a lot of time together. One thing I noticed, though, is something when Tobias and Velour were talking. Velour is a very sarcastic person, but I don't think Tobias quite caught on to her sarcasm. He seemed to take things too literally and her sarcasm flew over his head.

His foreseeable future is blurry.

"Quole Issa."

It takes me a few seconds to realize that my name was just called, and I stand up, staying where I am for a few more seconds. I walk very slowly towards the doors, thinking of what to do in there. I could go to the survival skills, or to the weapons, or to the running stations. There is a huge amount of possibilities that I could do, but which one is best for me?

I make my way into the hallway, the lights barely lighting up the hallway. I take a quick right, finally entering the Training Center. It is a large room, with the Gamemakers at the back wall in front of me, and to the two sides of me, there are two different sections of stations. There is nothing in the middle of the room, and to the right is the weaponry and to the left are the survival skills.

The thing that catches my attention is the climbing ropes near the survival skills section. Before I go over there, I walk to the spot in front of the Gamemakers' balcony and stare at them. They look down at me, their eyes following my every movement. I open my mouth to speak, but what if I say the wrong thing? What if I mess up on my name or my District?

During these private sessions, every little thing counts. One slip up or mistake will cost you a whole point or two.

I look at the ground, not paying attention to the Gamemakers anymore. It takes me a minute or so to get myself to walk towards the climbing station, and once I'm there, I reach out my arms. I grab ahold of the net and place my right foot on the bottom of the net. Swiftly, I grab ahold of the net handles a few feet above me, and I halt myself upwards. I continue doing this until I reach the top, and push myself to go faster and faster with each halt. I climb across the net, reaching out my hands first and then propelling myself my feet. The texture of the net is soft against my hand, and it isn't giving me any burns or scratches. At the end of the net, where it meets with the wall, the rope turns into a long, thick string almost. I slide down that, and when I am only a few inches off of the ground, I jump off, landing on my feet.

I walk back towards the Gamemakers, not sure of what to say or do, yet again. They all back away from the railing of the balcony and begin to whisper to each other. I back away, trying to reach the hallway, and I go and stand in the doorway into it.

"Quole Issa, District Eight," I say, barely audible.

All of the Gamemakers look back at me, and I might even hear a soft chuckle coming from one. This is exactly why I don't talk much; people will always find something to laugh at.

I walk down the hallway, looking at the ceiling, admiring the fine steelwork. The doors open automatically, and I step through them, freezing once all of the tributes look at me.

"Emmett Twill."

My District partner stands up from the bench, walks past me, and we make eye-contact. I look over my shoulder to see Emmett disappear through the doors.

If I had to choose anyone to be my District partner, it'd probably be Emmett. He's really nice and intelligent, always knowing the answer to academic questions and common-sense questions my escort asks. I like when he shares stories about his family and his life back in District Eight, since they are so different from mine. He seems very protective of his family too, which is an interesting personality trait. But, I don't know how suitable he is for the Games. He doesn't seem to have that motivation or drive to win.

His foreseeable future is blurry.

_But what about you, Quole? What is your foreseeable future?_

_Is it clear? Blurry? Or unclear? _

_Unfortunately, that's not a question you can answer. Only the Games will decide what it is._

* * *

**Asher Hadamik  
District Ten Male, 18 Years Old**

* * *

"Amelie Delaine."

The tall, lean girl from District Nine stands up, her face formed into a pensive expression. She says something to the smaller boy next to her, who replies with a fit of laughter. Amelie smiles and walks through the doors, leaving her District partner sitting on the bench still laughing.

I pity such a girl. Not in a patronizing way, either, just in the realistic and moral way. She's just another pawn for the Capitol, one that will go into that room, perform to the best of her ability, and essentially beg for a high training score. While she does this, the Capitol will just bask in its glory and its superiority, knowing that all this girl wants is to survive. All she wants is to go home, but what makes her different? Why should she go home over me?

It's sick. The Hunger Games are just another example of the Capitol's cruelty. The Capitol knows what they are doing too with the Hunger Games; it's supposed to be to control the rebellion and to punish the Districts for doing such a thing, but there's so much more to it. It's to show-off the strength and power they possess to fear them. They're using the Games as intimidation, and they are most certainly succeeding.

Every year, it's the same thing over-and-over again. The Bloodbath, the Feast, the Final Battle. All of it. I'm tired of watching kids kill each other. What does that prove, anyway? That some Districts are stronger than another? That the volunteers from Districts One, Two, and Four are superior?

The Hunger Games are solely so the Districts pay the Capitol their respect. Respect for what? I'm not even sure. They treat everyone like total animals, never supplying them with enough food or money.

And after you win, what happens? You go back to your home District, live in a lavish house, and acquire all of the money and popularity you've ever wanted. But, what about a year after your victory? Or two? What will happen to you then? Nothing. You'll just live the same life for the rest of your life, and you might even mentor a few kids along the way.

Winning is a great reward, isn't it?

"Lyra Bane."

Without even realizing it, it seems that Amelie has returned from her session and her District partner has already gone. Lyra stands up from the spot next to me on the bench, walking straight for the doors. I lean my head against the wall behind me and stare at the ceiling.

Even her. Even my own District partner, from the same District, wants to go home. We all do. It's a mutual desire, one that can only come true to one out of twenty-four.

I pity her too. Her bipolar ways, her isolation, and her determination. She's aware that you can die and she knows that only one of us can go home. But, at this point, seeing as it is the Twentieth Hunger Games, shouldn't everyone be aware of that? That, even if you pray and hope, it won't matter?

It's lucky, really. The Games, that is. If you're strong or good looking, that will help, but if you're not, then you're at a disadvantage. The Capitol is aware of the fact that the strong and good looking tributes do better than others; they idolize the tributes that can do well in the Games, they show them off, and they even support the betting on the Games from the citizens.

The Capitol is truly corrupted.

"Asher Hadamik."

The robotic says my name, and I reluctantly stand up. I walk towards the doors, passing by a few tributes who all just stare back at me with expressionless faces. I walk down the long, narrow hallway, my shoes clicking against the floor with every footstep. At the end, I take a right into the Training Center, my eyes adjusting to the blaring lights from the ceiling.

The Gamemakers are perched above the Training Center on a balcony, talking to each other and staring down at me. I stare back at them, my teeth gritted and my dissent with being here evident.

Why does the Capitol care what I do in there? What gives the Gamemakers the right to judge me?

"Asher Hadamik, District Ten," I state, a cold edge in my voice.

All of the Gamemakers nod and go back to talking to each other, except the Head Gamemaker herself. She stands at the balcony, her body leaning over it just a little. She is wearing a bright white suit, while the others are in all black attire.

"You may begin," she calls down, a smirk upon her face.

"Thanks for your permission," I sneer under my breath, not caring if she heard me or not. "It's _oh-so_ requisite."

I turn around, facing the entrance where I came in from, and assess my surroundings. To the right is a large wall that is covered by a variety of plants and trees, and on the ground there are tables and tables of different survival skills. To my left there are weapons and different running stations.

Either way, I'm going to get a score that is insignificant to me. The training proves nothing. Nothing at all. It only gives something for the Careers to boast about and for the weaklings to weep about. And how will I react to mine? I will sit back, laugh to myself, and know that I am better than a training score.

I walk slowly towards the weapon stations, eyeing each rack and table. On one there are spears, on another there are swords, and on another there are whips. Back in District Ten, I used to herd cattle, so I know how to use whips effectively. I might as well use them; not to impress them, but to practice. During Training, I didn't really use whips, so I might as well refresh my abilities.

I grab one of the whips from the rack, finding a comfortable grip in my hand. I grab the tip of the whip my left hand and stretch it out, testing how stretchy and tough it is. The actual part of a whip that would be used to injure or kill someone is a rough material, it leaving a slight burn on my palms after I stretch it. In front of me, there are a few dummies, and I try to think of how I can use this.

I could just whip it, like most people would, or whip it and wrap it around its neck, or something along the lines of yanking off a body part with the whip. It doesn't really matter; this is only practice.

The dummy stands in front of me, and I stare it, acting as if it is a real human. I see it now; the eyes, the mouth, the ears, the nose. I imagine that it is the Head Gamemaker herself; her pristine facial features and her luscious chestnut hair flowing down to her shoulders. With a grunt, I whip the front of the dummy once, hearing it lash against the fabric of it. With another grunt, I whip it a few more times, causing some of the fabric to rip open a little. A few pieces of cotton spill out of it, and I see it as blood.

I take a few steps back, angling myself in a good position, and send the whip down on the dummy's hand. It wraps around the hand, and with a swift movement, I pull the dummy's hand off. More cotton spills out from the severed arm, and I begin to exhale rapidly and much louder at the sight of this. Next, I raise my arm again, and with a flick of my wrist, wrap it around the dummy's head. It takes a little more force and energy to yank off the head, but I do it after a minute or so, and the head falls to the ground. It's soft, though, so it doesn't make much noise. I walk up to the dummy and lodge the grip of the whip into the spot where the head it would be.

I walk away from the dummy, back towards the hallway where I entered, and look at it one last time. The actual whip part of it dangles from the head, and with a sense of satisfaction, I smirk to myself.

I bet they will remember that. Even if I receive a training score of one or twelve, it won't matter. It's just a number, and I am not just a number; I am a human being. I am worth more than just a single-digit or double-digit number. The Capitol might be the most intelligent thing in Panem, but they are the most naïve and ignorant.

The Capitol makes me irritated, it's that simple. All I feel towards them is utter hatred and seething rage. I have disdain for everything they do and towards what they stand for. I'm tired of being a slave, one that has no say in their role in the District and one that has no personal rights. Back in District Ten, all I see is my family and friends put up with the Capitol's dictatorship.

Do they not realize that they are being oppressed?

I, for one, do. I realize that what the Capitol is doing is wrong and inhumane. Their laws and regulations are just another ploy to spawn fear in the Districts. But, on the rare occasion, you have people like my brother. Even if he attempted to do something right for my family, he only gave the Capitol something else to punish us for. It resulted in murder and public humiliation.

Truthfully, I hope that my brother, Derek, is happy that I'm gone. Maybe he'll get a reality-check and realize how cruel the Capitol is now. Perhaps, for once, he'll see the oppression he is facing.

For me, freedom from oppression is my ultimate goal. I do things on my terms and I most certainly do not take orders from the Capitol.

_But what if I'm the only one fighting for that goal? What if I am the only one who isn't content with the Capitol's rule?_

_Then it would be hopeless, and you would become another pawn for the Capitol to control. _


	12. Training Scores

**Author's Note:** Wow, two updates in one day? I can't believe this! Well, you readers have fun, just not too much.

* * *

**Nero Recknor  
District Two Male, 18 Years Old**

* * *

The interviewer, Cicero, and the Games Announcer, Camilla, sit on two chrome chairs behind a chrome desk. Cicero is wearing a green suit and Camilla is wearing a green dress, with green accessories that complement their clothes. They both sit with perfect posture, staring directly at the camera in front of them. They are emotionless, not even looking at each other or smiling. It seems that they don't even blink and might not even be breathing. They must look pristine on national television.

The District Two team – the two mentors, my father, Tyson, and Serpentine, the female victor of the Seventeenth Hunger Games, the escort, the stylist, the prep team, Olivine, and I – are gathered in the living room, sitting on the couch in front of the television or standing. Everyone's attention is fixed on the television, barely paying any attention to anyone else around them. Just from their facial expressions and postures, I can tell how tense of a moment this is for everyone.

"The tributes were rated on a scale of one two twelve, after three days of careful evaluation," Cicero announces, "The Gamemakers want to acknowledge that it was an exceptional group of tributes, as the scores in a moment will indicate."

The Capitol emblem pops up on the screen behind him, followed by the Capitol anthem. Cicero and Camilla still stare forward, barely acknowledging the image or the noise behind them.

"Now, let's begin, shall we?" Camilla asks, remaining emotionless.

"From District One: Cove Barley with a score of – eight."

"Velour Versailles with a score of – ten."

Cove and Velour; also known as my allies. I wasn't too hesitant with allying with them. When I watched the reaping recaps, District One definitely stood out to me. Cove volunteered, but Velour was reaped. Even though she was reaped, she did get a higher score than her own District partner, Cove. Cove is usually off talking to the outer-District tributes or the Capitol people, asking them questions and whatnot. Velour is evidently stronger and more trained than Cove, but I won't berate Cove for getting an eight. An eight is still an exceptional score, but it's not as good as a ten. I now know that I cannot underestimate Velour just because she was reaped. I always thought Cove would have been the real threat, but maybe I was deceived. Who would have known a pretty face like Velour could have such skills?

"From District Two: Nero Recknor with a score of – nine."

"Olivine Keenan with a score of – nine."

I slouch down in the couch, throwing my arms to the side in excitement. A nine isn't as high as a ten, but it's still impressive, if I may say so myself. I glance over to Olivine and smirk, and she just winks and begins to twirl her hair. She doesn't seem as excited as I am, and I really don't know why. She just got a training score of nine, and all she's going to do is wink and twirl her hair. I won't say Olivine is a bad ally or anything like that; she's just a different type of ally. I'm not really sure what she's good at or what she is capable of, since during training I never really paid attention to her. It seems that she deceived me as well. Her beauty is her most valuable asset, and she will definitely use that to her advantage. The sponsors will love her, and that would help our alliance as a whole. I'm lucky to have Velour and Olivine as allies because they will be the ones to attract the most sponsors.

"From District Three: Robin Sherrell with a score of – four."

"Kaelyn Taitrin with a score of – three."

District Three, like it has been for the past few years, is nothing impressive. A four and three shows some competence and it makes me wonder if I should keep an eye on them. I have never interacted or socialized with Robin or Kaelyn, so I don't know much about them. Cove and Velour have talked to them, though. In the Training Center, I watched from across the center at the four of them socializing. Cove asked questions about District Three, genuinely curious about District Three, and Kaelyn answered, but Robin didn't. Velour took offense to this and got into a little argument with Robin. Robin acted different when speaking to Velour, though. Velour and Robin's interaction was interesting. When Cove and Velour walked away, Robin acted different with Kaelyn. It seems like Robin acts different near different people. Both of them are interesting, and I shouldn't underestimate them either since a score of four and three shows some competence.

"From District Four: Adam Kent with a score of – eight."

"Mariel Seavey with a score of – eight."

Expectantly, the two tributes from District Four, Adam and Mariel, both received an eight. I thought Adam would have at least gotten a nine. Adam is much stronger than Mariel and Cove, who also received an eight, but not as strong as me. From his score, it seems that Adam isn't as strong as Velour or Olivine either, which is surprising. Adam, or the hopeless romantic, is obedient, disciplined, and definitely a competitor. Mariel, on the other hand, is much more reserved and is sort of an introvert. The only person she talks to occasionally is Adam, and always tries to avoid Velour and Olivine. The only reason I consider them as competition is because they are in the Career alliance and another reason is their training score that they just received. I can't see them as victors, or even last long in the games, but I cannot judge them just off of their actions in the Training Center and their training score. Who knows, they both could have some tricks up their sleeve.

I catch a glimpse of the District Five tributes' faces before the television shuts off, causing everyone to sigh and then become silent. I throw my hand up in the air, rolling my eyes, showing my disapproval of whoever's action that was. The escort, stylist, and prep team all shuffle out of the living room and go into another room, probably going to continue watching the rest of the training scores.

"Interesting," Serpentine hisses, barely audibly.

Chuckling, my father shrugs his shoulders, "It was alright."

Olivine narrows her eyes, "Really? You received a six when you were a tribute."

My father stares into Olivine's eyes, "It was different then, Olivine."

"What was your excuse?"

"What's yours?"

I keep my mouth shut, choosing not to anger my father or Serpentine. I glance at Serpentine, who only smiles to herself, her dimples showing themselves. Her dark, and not to mention dreary and ominous, eyes lock on to mine. Serpentine's eyes follow whatever direction I choose to look, with her smile shrinking into a small smirk. I rest my head down on the arm-rest of the couch, glancing at Serpentine every few seconds just to see if she is still stalking my every movement.

Olivine and my father continue to bicker, showing disgust and abhorrence towards each other through their facial expressions. Olivine begins twirling her hair with her finger, and then puts her hand on her hip and struts into her room, and my father mocks her by putting his hand on his hip and strutting into another room. Olivine slams her door, and then my father slams his door even louder.

Serpentine and I are the only ones left in the living room. I stare out the window, trying not to make eye contact with Serpentine, but from the corner of my eye I can see Serpentine leaning against the wall, licking her lips.

"You show potential, Nero."

My eyes widen, and I turn my head very slowly. I point a finger at myself and look around the room, trying to fool her into thinking that I wasn't aware that everyone else has left the living room. Serpentine tilts her head downwards, making her eyes look much darker than normal. Without speaking, she stays in that position for a minute or two.

Even though it has been about three years, Serpentine is still acting the same way she did in the games. When she volunteered at the age of sixteen, Serpentine was wiry and lean, but also showed a great amount of physical muscle, and she still looks the same at the age of nineteen. Her black hair is complemented by her dark green eyes and somewhat pale skin. She appears to be cold and bitter, and that is definitely what she is. Serpentine has a steady face, strong features, and a watchful eye.

"What do you mean?" I ask, choking on my own words.

"You show the potential to be the victor."

I raise my eyebrow, "That's the plan."

Serpentine smirks and shakes her head, "That's where you lack."

"What?"

"Practicality. Modesty. Integrity."

"You don't know me, Serpentine," I snap, trying to conceal my infuriation from her last comment.

While speaking, she exhales slowly, "There you go again, Nero."

"Stop it!"

"Face it, Nero. You're not what you think you are."

With that, Serpentine slithers out of the room, leaving me alone in the living room. I fall backwards onto the couch and throw my legs and arms outwards. I stare at the ceiling, trying to interpret Serpentine's ambiguous words. She is obviously trying to prove something, and I should really try to figure what out what she meant and listen to. Even though she doesn't speak much, whenever she does speak, you should listen to her since it's usually wise or profound.

Serpentine made an impression on me as soon as I boarded the train. Prior to my volunteering, I never really paid attention to her or watch her games thoroughly. All I know is that she is the victor of the Seventeenth Hunger Games, and was extremely impressive and clever during that year's games. There are rumors that her token was confiscated, but no one really knows if that happened and she won't even confess to it. I guess she likes to be mysterious, but at times, it can come off as creepy and insensitive.

I still don't understand what she meant, though. I don't think I am lacking in practicality, modesty, or integrity. If she thinks this, I would think my father would also feel the same way. I'm not sure a father would be proud of a son who lacks in all of those qualities. If my father thinks the same as Serpentine, I know I am doing something wrong. I can't be a disgrace to my father, but I have tried my hardest and I have done all I can possibly do.

What if all of my efforts to impress him have been in vain?

* * *

**Ivonette Frost  
District Six Female, 18 Years Old**

* * *

"From District Five: Sinter Farwood with a score of – four."

"Minx Hyede with a score of – three."

Well, that's not too surprising. The two tributes from District Five received such petty scores. The boy, Sinter, was always a nuisance, acting as an obstacle in the way of the way of my potential, while the girl, Minx, is simply a small creature that needs to be squashed. District Five has always been weak, and throughout the years, developed a reputation of being weaklings. These two tributes are definitely fit for the stereotypes that label District Five. If I receive a score that low – which would never happen, so this is hypothetical, of course – I would give up immediately. I can almost hear the tears coming from these two in my head, whimpering about how poorly they did and how their future doesn't seem too bright.

"From District Six: Harley Astaire with a score of – four."

"Ivonette Frost with a score of – five."

I let out a screech, it swaying back and forth from an obnoxious laughter to a piercing scream. Harley simply nods his head, probably feeling some sense of accomplishment. To me, a five is impressive. Not as petty as a three and not as esteemed as a ten. It's in the middle, where I am comfortable, and I don't have a problem with that. If you receive a score as high as the Careers, they would target you for being competition, but if you received a score that is too low, they would target you for being weak.

I bet I intimidated them. Yes, of course, that's it. That is how I received my five. It's either that or it had to do something with my appearance. I bet the light reflecting off of my skin from the ceiling-lights blinded them, and they probably thought I have some superhuman ability or something.

I wouldn't put it past them – the Capitol is odd like that.

"From District Seven: Tobias Cress with a score of – seven."

"Seer Brine with a score of – seven."

Oh, now, that is funny. Pure comedy. Two sevens for the two from District Seven. I bet the Capitol did that on purpose; they're such comedians, aren't they?

Still, I can't get over the fact that they got sevens. They do realize that the Careers will target them now? In all honesty, I wouldn't have cared if I got a one. Even if a one is pretty low – well, actually it is in fact the lowest you can get, but just to prove my point here. I expected Tobias to get a high score like that, but not Seer. She always sauntered around the Training Center, talking to whoever she wanted to and acted like a little girl at times. She seemed innocent, sweet, and charming, but I guess she fooled us all.

Even me, Ivonette Frost the Pale from the prestigious District Six, was fooled.

"From District Eight: Emmett Twill with a score of – three."

"Quole issa with a score of – three."

How do you spell boring?

_B-o-r-i-n-g._

It's expected, though. I've watched the Hunger Games for the past few years now, and each year, District Eight does poorly. Except for that one male, whose name is Woof, I believe. He won the Eight Hunger Games.

At that time, I was six, so I didn't watch the Games. But, one day, a marathon of all of the Games was playing when I was about sixteen. Of course, I watched each and every one. His arena stood out to me for so many reasons. And when I say many, I mean it. Firstly, the arena was full of snow. There were avalanches, icicles, and blizzards. It was a winter-wonderland, but not for them. For me at home, it was. I liked watching it only because I could imagine myself in it. I would have blended in with the snow and I could have hid for the rest of the Games.

In District Six, the last time it snowed my parents lost me for a few days.

In all honestly, the Games aren't something to joke about. They're serious in a way, yet humorous in another. They're barbaric and fascinating. Barbaric in the sense that the Capitol is forcing innocents to fight to the death for entertainment, but fascinating in a way that people can become worthless pawns just to prevent death.

The Capitol isn't any better than the Hunger Games. The Capitol is crazy and I don't think anyone really deserves to die. Not in the Hunger Games, anyway. Death happens to everyone, but I don't believe in killing unless it is to prevent suffering or to protect yourself or those you care about. In some cases, people deserve to die, but no one deserves the right to take their life away. If you couldn't tell, I'm against the death penalty.

I do, however, respect the Capitol's odd fashion sense. I wouldn't want to befriend any of them or anything, but they are interesting people to watch. When we first arrived in the Capitol, I was mistaken for a citizen because of my skin. My stylists even though I toned my skin white on purpose, when in reality, I didn't.

Perks of being albino, eh?

I'm not what I seem, though. Sure, on the outside, I'm literally white, but that doesn't mean much. Appearances only prove so much, and what's on the inside matters, no matter how sappy that sounds.

In reality, no one is what they seem. Not even me. Just because I'm white doesn't mean I'm snow and I most certainly won't melt under intense heat. That's just a misconception of being, you know, extremely pale.

The list of misconceptions goes on and on. I must admit, though, that some make me laugh. Just like some of these tributes. For example, I once heard a small child back in District Six ask how babies are made. I, being my witty self, told them straight-up. But, I asked them a trick question too: "What if two albinos have babies?" Well, the answer is obvious to adults, but to the kid, well, he didn't. He shrugged, and I told him that they were invisible. He gasped and I laughed.

And for your information, no, albinos do not make invisible babies.

"Good job, Ivonette," Harley says, the smile on his face creeping me out.

"A four isn't that bad, Harley. You're average!" I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air.

"Whatever," Harley deadpans. "Now, Ivonette, enlighten us. What are your plans for the Games? How do you plan to win?"

I shrug, "Why do you care, Harley? Will you sabotage me?"

Harley rolls his eyes in defeat, "That's the plan."

I let out an obnoxious laughter, causing my mentor, escort, and Harley to leave the room. I slump back against the couch, resting my head on the armrest. Oh, how I would kill to have such a piece of furniture back in District Six.

District Six was aesthetically pleasing; the charming views of the sunset and sunrise, the midnight sky full of stars, and the endless factories that polluted our environment. I loved getting up early in the morning and staying up late just to watch these things, since it made me feel calm and tranquil for some reason. Really, I like District Six, but I have always wanted to travel the Districts.

I want to see the marble of District One, the stone of District Two, the steel of District Three and Five, the waters of District Five, the trees of District Seven, the buildings of District Eight, the fields of District Nine and Eleven, the farms of District Ten, and the mines of District Twelve.

Yes, even the Career Districts and even the outer-Districts. I've wanted to see all of them. With this wish, I put aside all of my hatred for certain Districts' tributes and I try not to be biased. Districts One, Two, and Four, for example, have volunteers, and I do not like volunteer. District Eleven has rebellious tributes, which I also do not like. No District is perfect, but that doesn't matter; I just want to see the sights of each District.

One thing I really want to see is the Victor's Village of each District. For some reason, I find those areas the most interesting. In District Six, the Victor's Village is small and very confined, and for the most part, vacant. We only have one victor, Melina, the victor of the Thirteenth Hunger Games.

Hopefully, District Six will bring home another victor this year. I have my qualms about this, but anything's possible. It will either be me or Harley, though. It can't be both, and I'd prefer it to be me, and not just because I want to survive. Harley is a little out-there, and I know he wouldn't take winning too well. He'd be dramatic and emotional and would never get over the Games. I would know how to cope with the guilt and consequences of the Games.

On the train to the Capitol, Harley asked me if I was scared and if I thought I could win. It was a sudden question, making me feel taken back a little. I told him straight-up what I thought and how I felt. He listened carefully as I told him that I would fend for myself, even if I had an alliance, that I would do anything for me to become victor, and that I would accept death when the time comes. After, he asked me what I thought about him and if I thought he could win. Once again, I told him straight-up what I thought and how I felt.

I said that I don't give false hope. I told him that I am strong, and that he is strong, and that we both know what's going on. Or, at least I thought he knew what is going on, but I'm not sure he does anymore. Nevertheless, at this point, we're still allies at this point, and I need to still help him. Does he know what's going on now? Well, I'm not sure.

I most certainly know what's going on, though. I know that twenty-four teenagers go into that arena, and only one walks out. I understand that and don't over-estimate my chances.

I'm not going to tell anyone that it is going to be okay, because it's not. Anything can happen in that arena, and, well, it might not be in their favor. This doesn't mean I'm giving up, though, and that I won't be tough competition for the others. I know my strengths and weaknesses, and even though people say my passion is arrogance, it's not. Passion is not arrogance, and if you know something for a fact, then you better believe it. In the Games, I will stand for myself, and maybe even Harley too. I will stand for our survival and fight relentlessly to ensure our safety.

And safety is something I want. Wanting comes with a price, though, and to get something, you have to want it really bad. You must want something to such a degree that it stresses you out thinking about that desire.

People always ask me: "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Well, it's simple. I was a citizen of District Six, and now I am tribute in the Twentieth Hunger Games. Because of this, I know what it means to want to be better and to want to be the best. I want to win and I want to survive, but I can't just sit around and talk about how much I want _it_.

'It' as in: winning the Games, feeding my family, the glory for my District. I'll show everyone how much I want _it_. I have to stop "thinking about it" and "wondering about it" and "hoping for it" and actually go out there and get it!

_Do it, Ivonette! Do it!_

And then, when the time comes, whether you win, lose, collapse on the final day, or get slaughtered in the Bloodbath, you'll have an epiphany. At that time, at least you'll know exactly who you are. But, for me, I will know who I am after I win. After I take down all of the other tributes and rise to the top, then I will know who I am. If all the Capitol wants is a pawn to play with in their Games, then they have one right here. I am not your normal pawn, either; I am a motivated one.

And a pawn without motivation is a useless piece.

* * *

**Amelie Delaine  
District Nine Female, 16 Years Old**

* * *

"From District Nine: Noah Miller with a score of – one."

"Amelie Delaine with a score of – four."

I didn't realize my picture already came up, completely missing my picture, and only hearing my name being said. I was still congratulating Noah on his score, patting him on the shoulder and smiling widely at him. Noah pokes me in the shoulder, and then points back at the screen.

_A four? That's… that's amazing!_

I lash my arms out behind me in excitement, knocking over a pot of plants behind me, the sound of shattering glass behind me. One of the Avoxes rushes over and starts to clean up quickly, and I try to apologize, but I bite down on my tongue because I don't know what to say. I get over that quickly, still feeling a rush of excitement from the training scores.

"From District Ten: Asher Hadamik with a score of – five."

"Lyra Bane with a score of – four."

From what I've seen and heard, Asher isn't the friendliest or reserved person, but I won't judge him based off of that. He could be different, and he looks nice to me. He's even a little bit handsome too, and I can't help myself but have a latent crush on him. Call me corny, but there's just something about him. Maybe it's because I've always wanted to travel to District Ten.

_In your dreams, Amelie. _

I laugh to myself, catching a quick glimpse of the girl from District Ten's picture before it disappears. I've heard a lot about her too, only because my mentor and their mentor talk a lot. I've seen District Nine and Ten become allies in some Games, but this year, I don't think the tributes from District Ten would want to ally with us. Well, maybe me, but definitely not Noah. He only got a one as a training score and he really isn't the strongest.

The male from District Eleven's face appears on the screen with his training score underneath his picture.

"From District Eleven: Dresden Scott with a score of – three."

"Cama Zale with a score of – five."

I sulk at the sight of Cama, the girl from District Eleven. She isn't the friendliest person, and I usually cower around her. I don't know why she is so mean and snooty towards everyone, but I try to not let that get me. I'm self-conscious at times, and she definitely doesn't help it. Everyone is a little self-conscious at times, though. Cama is too probably. Maybe she's just mean to everyone just to make herself feel better. She's just a typical bully, just like the girls from One and Two.

I was actually anticipating Dresden's score. He's Noah's ally, and for some reason, I'm a little protective over him. Maybe because he reminds me of myself when I was a child and throughout our time in the Capitol, he's been really nice to me. He's young, though, and doesn't really have a chance to do well in the Games.

As the District Twelve boy's face appears on the screen, I can't help but smile to myself. Noah chuckles at his picture too.

"From District Twelve: Caolan Harper with a score of – one."

"Amara Dane with a score of – six."

Caolan is interesting. Interesting in the funny way and in the quirky way. Even though it hurts me to say it, he is foolish, young, and naïve. He's another ally of Noah, though, so I was anticipating his score as well. It seems that Noah and Caolan got the lowest, while Dresden got the highest. I don't know if they had a leader in that alliance or not, but I'm sure if they do it would be Dresden. He's just another tribute that makes me feel uneasy. What will happen to him in the Games? What will happen to Dresden and Noah? I'm not sure; I'm really not.

Amara, on the other hand, is mysterious, if you will. I know she lost a sister in one of the previous Hunger Games, and she shows it. She keeps to herself, and whenever you talk to her, she's cold and edgy. She's very protective over the girls from Five and Eight, and I'm sure that has something to do with her losing her sister. I try to avoid her though, but people like Velour, Olivine, and Cama don't. They just make matters worse for her, and in a way, I feel bad for her.

I stand up from the couch, turning off the television as I walk past the remote. Noah walks behind me and follows me to wherever I'm going. I sway back and forth, confusing him a little, and he begins to laugh. I don't see where my escort is, but I look to find my mentor. My mentor, Lichen, notices Noah and me walking into my bedroom and she follows us.

Once we're all in the room, I sit down on my bed and Noah lies down next to me, his head leaning on his hands and his legs swaying up-and-down. Lichen sits down in a rocking chair in the corner of the room, and begins to rock back-and-forth on it.

"So," Lichen says, a certain sweetness in her voice. "What do you think of the scores?"

Noah's mouth is agape, and he tries to speak, but it comes out as mumbled words. "Some of them were really high!"

I lightly push his shoulder with my hand, causing him to roll off the bed. He falls onto the ground, laughing hysterically, and punches me in the arm when he stands back up.

"I agree. Some of them were really high!" I say dramatically, feigning fainting, falling backwards on my pillow.

Noah begins to laugh even harder now, and I can't help myself but laugh too. Lichen chuckles too, and for the next minutes, we are all laughing heartily. Then, we remember where we are. The room is now silent, except for Noah's little squeaks from holding down his laughter.

"Lichen?"

"Yes, Amelie?"

"I have a serious question," I say, playing with my fingernails. "How do you win?"

Lichen smirks a little, and I soon realize that my question was rather simple and asinine. I try and correct myself, "Scratch that. I meant, what are some tips for us? Not just for me, but for Noah too."

"It depends on the arena, honey," Lichen replies, saying her words crisply. "One thing is for sure that you need to find water, food, and shelter."

"What about those sharp things? Like the knives?" Noah asks, not paying much attention to us. He is staring at the ceiling and seems to be counting the tiles on the ceiling with his fingers.

"The weapons," I correct him. "I agree, though. What about those? That is how, you know-"

I widen my eyes and nod my head, trying to give Lichen a hint about the word I wanted to say. I don't want to use the word 'kill' near Noah, since I'm not sure if he knows what that means yet. I just don't want to upset him. Lichen nods, understanding what I meant.

"Technically, yes, but you shouldn't worry about that. Natural things, traps, and other tributes can take care of that."

"I see, I see. Don't kill Amelie, just run," I say, not realizing that I'm talking. That was supposed to be kept in my mind, but at least I didn't say something embarrassing or awkward.

Lichen continues to rock back-and-forth on the chair, Noah's eyes following the chair as it goes up and down.

"Anything else?" I ask, fishing for any tips she can tell us. "_Anything?_"

I begin to panic as I ask these questions, realizing that Lichen won't be there in the arena to help me. I'll be all alone, and I won't even have allies. I'm not entirely sure why I didn't try to get an ally or two, but what's done is done. I can still make an ally, but I don't know if I want to. Allies are nice all, but I get attached to people, and they might not make it.

_Just remember that, Amelie. Only one person can make it out alive._

I'm not a complete screw-up, but I'm not perfect either. I mess up, but don't we all? I'm not the strongest, or the cleverest, or the most charismatic, but I don't think I'm a complete failure. Working in District Nine has taught me how to use a sickle pretty well and it kept me in shape. That doesn't mean I will win, though; I know it won't be that easy.

I begin to frantically play with my hair and pick my fingernails, waiting for Lichen to give us more tips. All I want to know is what I can do to increase my chances of winning. I want to know everything I possibly can before entering the Games, and if I don't, I will have to work with what I have.

"Calm down, Amelie. You'll be fine."

I look up, trying to calm myself down by thinking about everything she's told us. "Do you really think so?"

Lichen smiles, "You too, Noah. Both of you will be fine."

I look at Noah, who's playing with the lace on the ends of the pillows. He looks up at me, smiles, and then makes a silly face. Lichen stands in the doorway, and I look back at her, who stays there for a moment. She must know what I am feeling right now. She went through the same things I did, didn't she? She is a victor, so what she said to me has to be true and I must listen to her.

"One last thing, Amelie. You too, Noah" Lichen says softly.

My ears perk up, and I smile at her. "Yes, Lichen?"

"Can you two promise me one thing?"

I wrap my arm around Noah's neck, and we both fall back on the pillows on the bed. We both look at Lichen, both of us smiling and acting like children.

"Promise me that, in the arena, you will stay true to yourselves. You won't let anything change you, got it? Nothing."

Lichen starts to tear up, and I can tell because her voice has become shaky and her eyes are becoming watery. Noah and I look at each other, and in unison, we speak.

"We promise."


	13. Interviews

**Cove Barley  
District One Male, 16 Years Old**

* * *

"Let's see if she is just as lush as her name sounds – here is Velour Versailles from District One!"

The interviewer, Cicero, points to the side of the sage, and the crowd erupts with claps, screams, and whistles before Velour has even made it to the stage. That ten of hers has already gotten her a few sponsors, and I'm sure the Capitol has been looking forward to this moment for quite some time; they will get to witness the mystical creature called from Velour. She struts onto the stage, her torso angled towards the audience and a big smile on her face.

Her outfit is doing wonders for her chances with the sponsors too. I'm not so keen with my fashion terms, and I really don't care for most fashion, but I know a beautiful outfit when I see one. It's a black strapless dress that starts at her midsection, right above her breasts, and ends just a little below her hips. On the front of the black dress is a large white flower and you can see the jewels that are adorned on it on the rims of the flower pedals. Wouldn't be surprised if those were diamonds, since Velour isn't your everyday-type-of-girl; she needs the finer things in life, and anything else wont' suffice.

Velour, after flaunting off her outfit and beauty, sits down in the seat across from Cicero's. It's a large chair, and as soon as Velour sits down, she turns her body towards the audience and makes sure to let everyone see her outfit even more. The outfit is rather plain, compared to past outfits during the interviews, but it's Velour. If you have the beauty, anything you wear makes you even more appealing. For Velour, everything is working in her favor as of now.

"Where shall we begin, Velour? I'm sure you're _dying_ to tell us all of your secrets," Cicero hints to Velour, trying to get her to tell him everything she has up her sleeve and what her plans are.

Velour smiles, and the smile is a little creepy, really. She is showing all of her front teeth and it goes from one cheek to the other. Cicero opens his mouth again, but Velour begins to speak in a broad and crisp manner.

"I find it flattering how you want to know so much about me, really, I do. But, this interview isn't about _you_, is it?"

Velour continues to smile, staring directly at Cicero. The crowd goes silent, and even I do. I'm not sure what she's doing or talking about since this is not what we had planned for Velour and I.

"It's not about you, Cicero, it's about me. It's about what I am willing to tell you, not what you want to hear or ask. Now, where shall _I _begin?"

Velour continues to talk, but I am still in shock. How could she say these things? Sure, it might seem broad and intimidating that a girl from One would talk with such attitude to the interviewer, but what is she trying to prove? I keep looking into the audience and me and my mentors, my father and Radiance, keep making eye-contact. They look in shock too, so I'm not the only one. A few words I manage to get out of Velour's speech are 'perfect' and 'prepared.'

As Velour's interview-time is coming to an end, she says one last thing.

"And that is where _I _wanted to begin, Cicero. Just remember: It's all about me, and I will not stop until I get what I want."

Velour stands up from the chair, walking back towards the area where the other tributes all are. She walks directly past us, that creepy smile still plastered on her face. She ignores the Avoxes and Peacekeepers too, and walks right through the doors at the back of the room we're all in. I feel the need to run after her, but I can't. This is where I belong now, and this is where my chances of winning the Hunger Games will be evaluated.

"Let's see if her District partner can live up to that performance – here is Cove Barley from District One!" Cicero exclaims in a shaky voice, trying to make witty comments about Velour's interview.

I walk onto the stage happily, smiling and waving to the crowd. I fix the cuffs on my tuxedo for quick second, and then get back smiling and waving. As I sit down on the chair across from Cicero, he extends his hand, and I shake it forcefully.

"Welcome, Cove."

"It's my pleasure, Cicero."

Cicero lets out a chuckle, shaking his head as he laughs. "So, the question that everyone is wondering, which do you prefer – District One or District Nine?"

I laugh, trying to sound amused and carefree. "Well, I feel that I have a connection to both. My mother, from Nine, and my father, from One, have both taught me valuable things. Whether the traditional mentality from Nine or the modern mentality from One, I think I am connected to both Districts."

Cicero nods acceptingly, taking in what I have just said. Sure, I tried to avoid the question, since that is why I'm here, isn't it? To see who I really am? A peasant from Nine or a prodigy from One?

"I see, I see. But, what do _you_ prefer? Would you rather live in District One or Nine? The rustic ways of Nine or the modern ways of One?"

I smile, looking into the crowd. "They both have their perks. Nine has such a laid-back way of life, while One has a fast-paced life. Now, what do you prefer, Cicero?"

Cicero laughs, patting my leg with his hand. "The Capitol, of course!"

"It was rhetorical, Cicero! Who wouldn't prefer the Capitol?" I exclaim, sounding as funny as possible.

Cicero stands back up and I get the hint that I should stand up as well. "It was a pleasure speaking with you, Cove. I'm sure we shall see a lot more from you later on."

I wink, "You'll just have to wait and see."

I walk off the stage, waving and smiling to the crowd again. As I reach the end of the stage, I take a deep breath and lean against the wall. Even if it doesn't seem stressful, it is. The interviews mean a lot because this is where sponsors mostly come from. If you say the wrong thing, you're in trouble, and if you say the right thing, sponsors will love you.

"Next up is Olivine Keenan, the beloved socialite from District Two!"

Olivine prances onto the stage, basking in what she does best. She always loves an audience and always has the need to be the center of attention. During the Chariot Rides, she was in her element, and now that it is the interviews, she is back in her element again. She banters with Cicero, going back and forth about her outfit. She's wearing a long flowing dress that has a long extension at the end of it. It is a light pink color and is adorned with different shades of pink gems. Once again, I am not the best with outfits, but it is still beautiful nonetheless.

I don't follow much of the conversation, and I pay a lot of attention to the audience. They are so obsessed with Olivine it seems. Sponsors will love her, no doubt, and she'll probably have just as many sponsors as Velour will. She talks a lot about her life back in District Two and how popular she was, how pretty she was, and how her mother is her favorite person from District Two. The only thing I catch from her interview is the next few sentences, though.

"How do you feel about the Capitol, Olivine? Is it everything you ever imagined?"

Olivine batters her eyelashes, giggling perkily and smiling widely. "The Capitol really knows how to throw a party, Cicero. And I'm sure they will be much more extravagant and entertaining for my victory fiesta."

Cicero says a few more things and Olivine replies with simple arrogant responses, and then her interview is over. Cicero extends his arm for a handshake, but Olivine embraces him in a provocative hug and kisses him on the cheek.

"Next up, the relative of the famous District Two victor – Nero Recknor!"

Nero steps onto the stage, not doing much besides having a smirk on his face. He's always like this; reserved, keeping to himself, and stoic. He rarely shows any emotion or regard for anything or anyone. He shakes Cicero's hand forcefully, and Cicero smirks a little at Nero's physicality.

Nero is wearing a simple gray suit with a black tie and accessories. Not even being funny, it compliments his personality and his appearance. Cicero compliments Nero's outfit, and Nero compliments Cicero's blue tuxedo. They talk about Nero's training back in District Two and how his life was, but then Cicero brings up his father.

"Your father is the very first victor of the Hunger Games, correct?"

Nero nods, "Yes, that is correct."

Cicero leans in, his face getting closer to Nero's face. "Now, tell me: Did you volunteer to follow in his foot-steps? Or did you volunteer for _another_ reason?"

"I volunteered for myself," Nero deadpans. "Nothing else."

With that, Nero's interview ends. Nero walks off of the stage, while Cicero sits back in his seat and claps along with the audience. He walks right past Olivine and I, going through the doors at the end of the hallway.

"Now, for District Three! Starting with Kaelyn Taitrin!"

Kaelyn, the girl from Three, walks onto the stage in her simple yellow dress. Cicero asks her questions regarding District Three, such as the scenery and the Peacekeepers, and I don't pay much attention to it. Kaelyn responds with simple answers, sounding happy and interested in Cicero's questions. Not much happens here, and I feel sort of bad for her. If your interview isn't the most interesting or appealing, you won't get that many sponsors.

"Next we have Robin Sherrell!"

As his District partner walks off of the stage, Robin walks past her onto the stage. Robin doesn't sit on the actual chair, though, and he chooses to sit on the arm of it. What is he doing? Cicero asks him to take a seat, but Robin ignores him and continues to sit on the arm of the chair. Cicero shrugs his shoulders and asks him a few questions, and Robin doesn't give much of a response to any of them. Whenever Cicero is serious, Robin acts like a fool, and whenever Cicero is foolish, Robin acts serious.

This, my friends, is what not to do during your interviews.

Fortunately, his interview is over. I couldn't bear to watch this anymore; I almost feel bad for him too, but all I can do is pity him since he is choosing to act like that.

"On to District Four, starting with Mariel Seavey!"

Mariel, the most quiet and generous in our alliance, walks onto the stage, giving an awkward smile to the audience. I must admit, she does look pretty in her aqua dress, but not as good-looking as Velour and Olivine. With Cicero, they talk about her family, and Cicero starts to ask personal questions. He asks about her mother and if she knew that girl that she volunteered for. Mariel tenses up at all of this, giving only nods and smiles as responses to Cicero.

From beside me, Olivine lets out a mocking laugh. She contains herself, putting her hand over her mouth, and I can't help myself from laughing too. Why must she be so… _her_? Why can't she just act normal?

"Let's see what Mariel had to partner with this year; here is Adam Kent!"

Adam walks onto the stage, his simple blue and white suit not attracting much applause and whistles. He walks to the seat broadly and sits down, shaking Cicero's hand and smiling at him. Cicero asks about Adam's reasons for volunteering, and Adam doesn't really tell anyone why, he just sort of avoids the question. He is very straight-forward and serious with his answers. He doesn't give much emotion and Cicero doesn't look too interested in Adam.

Why does no one take this seriously? Do they not realize that this will make or break you?

* * *

**Emmett Twill  
District Eight Male, 15 Years Old**

* * *

"Give a round of applause for Minx Hyede, the firecracker who is representing District Five in this years' Games!"

The young girl from Five prances onto the stage, giggling loudly and happily. She sits down across from Cicero, getting distracted by all of the people and lights. Her head turns from side-to-side, not really paying too much attention to Cicero and his questions. Cicero just asks how she feels, and Minx says that she is happy and excited. About and for what, I'm not sure, but she is obviously happy to be on stage right now.

She prances back off of the stage, high-fiving her District partner as she walks past him. His District partner looks back after her as she prances down the hallway, going right through the doors at the end of the hallway.

"Sinter Farwood, it is now your turn! Come on out here, Sinter Farwood!"

Sinter, compared to his District partner, is much more serious and reserved. He talks to Cicero, but gives responses that interests Cicero. Sinter, for one thing, likes to share his opinions. He tells Cicero how he really feels about things, but you can tell that he isn't too comfortable with telling him his thoughts. He stutters with some things and takes deep breathes occasionally.

"Do you think you have a chance to win, Sinter?"

Sinter shrugs, "I can hope so. But, who knows. Anything's possible, right?"

With that, his interview ends. Cicero and the crowd gives him one last round of applause, and as Sinter walks off of the stage, his face is expressionless and he walks through the doors that his District partner walked through before.

"Do we have an Ivonette Frost present? Well, if so, make your way out Ivonette Frost!"

The pale girl from Six, Ivonette, walks onto the stage, not looking too presentable. I mean, sure, her outfit is nice and all – her spaghetti-strap silver dress going down to her knees, with clear jewels that shimmer as the lights hit them – but her as a person is a little dull. I'm not one to judge, but with skin like that, I wonder how people will feel about her. I'm still amazed by her skin, and I miss most of her interview. The crowd is all at the edge of their seats, waiting for Ivonette's next response. Once she speaks, the crowd laughs heartily and screeches in enjoyment.

"How is life back in District Six, Ivonette? Did it teach you valuable lessons?"

Ivonette lets out a hoarse laughter, her arms flailing out in front of her. The crowd laughs along with her too. "I've been making a list of things they _don't _teach us in District Six. They don't teach you how to love, how to be famous, how to be rich or poor, how to perceive someone's feelings, or how to kill. They don't teach you anything worth knowing."

Cicero and Ivonette banter a bit more, but I can't hear much over the laughter and screams from the audience. As Ivonette's interview comes to an end, Cicero says one last thing which makes Ivonette screech in laughter.

"You have no idea what's coming your way, tributes. You just wait and see what I really have up my sleeves," Ivonette exclaims, pointing her finger at the cameras in front of her.

"Next up, we have Harley Astaire! Let's see if he is even comparable to the prestige of Ivonette!"

Her District partner, Harley, takes his time as he walks to the seat. He plays with his hands, hair, and outfit a lot. He fixes himself a few times and makes sure that everything is in order and that he looks presentable. Eventually, he sits down across from Cicero and begins to talk about District Six. Harley talks about his life in District Six, saying some odd things about his life. One thing I notice about Harley, though, is that he is very flirty. He makes a few comments about the pretty girls this year – obviously talking about Velour and Olivine – and says that maybe if they weren't about to enter the Hunger Games they might have had a chance to be with him.

Cicero and Harley stand up from their chairs, shake hands, and then Harley walks off of the stage. He goes to the bathroom, mumbling something to himself as he walks through the doors into the bathroom. He's always been one of those weirder tributes, really. I'm not sure what his problem is or why he is the way he is.

"Let me introduce Seer Brine from District Seven!"

Seer, the girl from Seven, walks onto the stage. She is wearing a dress that covers her whole torso and goes down to about her mid-leg. It is a pale beige color, and it compliments her hair and her eyes. There are a bunch of small designs on the dress and it is one of the nicer outfits I've seen here today.

"Welcome, Seer. How are you today?" Cicero asks, trying to start a conversation.

"Just scared, Cicero," she says, almost in a whimpering voice. "I don't know what will happen to me tomorrow."

Cicero and the audience frown, feeling sorry for Seer and how sad she is. I believe it too, since she seems really innocent and frightened by the Games. Even if she got a seven, it doesn't matter. She's just a scared girl who doesn't want to be in the Games.

The conversation goes on, and they talk about what Seer used to do in District Seven. She worked with lumber with her family and that's what she did for most of her life. She talks about she doesn't know too many skills and isn't sure what she'll do in the Games. She begins to cry a little too, and the crowd makes sympathetic noises for Seer. The audience is silent, waiting for Seer's next heart-wrenching comment. I feel bad for her too. I really do.

Cicero finishes up the interview with Seer, wishing her good luck and telling her to try her hardest.

"After that, I want to see if Tobias Cress, can protect his District partner! Come on out, Tobias Cress!"

Tobias and Cicero start the conversation immediately, but one thing I notice is that Tobias doesn't quite get sarcasm. Whenever Cicero tries to be witty and says something sarcastic, Tobias takes it seriously and obviously doesn't understand why everyone is laughing by the look on his face. He catches on after a while, though, and forces a laugh here and there.

"Promise me this, Tobias: Protect Seer until your last breath," Cicero says, sounding serious.

Tobias smiles genuinely, "Nothing will hurt her, Cicero. I promise."

Tobias walks off the stage, and he passes right by me. Next to me, my District partner, Quole, is getting ready to take the stage. I've been dreading this moment, since she really isn't the type of person to do well in the interviews. She's quiet; and when I say quiet, I mean it. She barely speaks. She has only ever said one word to me.

"Next up, we have Quole Issa from District Eight!"

Quole stumbles her way on stage, her face expressionless as she stares at all of the people in the audience. She sits down across from Cicero, not shaking his hand or saying one word. Cicero asks a bunch of questions, but Quole doesn't answer any of them, and she only stares directly into his eyes. Her pale gray dress with lavender adornment is rather fitting for her because she's quiet and dull, but there are still a few twists about her, just like her outfit.

Just as her interview is about to end, and Cicero says good-bye to Quole, she finally speaks. "District Eight was nice and I miss it."

With that, she steps off of the stage and walks down the hallway slowly. I glance over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of her, but a Peacekeeper grabs my arm and pulls me towards the stage. Once I'm at the edge behind the curtain, he lets go of me.

"Well, give it up for Emmett Twill!"

I walk onto the stage, trying different smiles to see which is most comfortable. I try a smile that shows all of my teeth, one that is almost a smirk, and once where my tongue is sort of hanging out. I sit down on the seat across from Cicero and just smile normally. I guess that is the best one, since it show who I really am; just a normal and average kid.

"Hello, Emmett. How are you today?"

"Just great!" I say, sounding happy. "Yourself?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. But, enough about me. How are you _really _doing?" Cicero asks, leaning in his shoulder.

"Well, a little nervous, but aren't we all? We're about to enter the Hunger Games," I say, turning towards the crowd. "And, I'm missing my family a little."

"Your family?" Cicero repeats, wanting me to tell him more.

"Yes, I love them and would do anything for them. I'm a great older-brother, so says my mother," I say, smiling and thinking of home back in District Eight.

"Very family-oriented, I see?"

I nod, "I am. I really am. And, if it takes winning the Hunger Games to make my family happy, I will try to do just that."

"Well, Emmett, may the odds be ever in your favor," Cicero replies. "I'll be keeping an eye on you in the arena."

"I figure that, if I have to die, I will go down fighting."

* * *

**Cama Zale  
District Eleven Female, 17 Years Old**

* * *

"May I present to you the lovely lady from District Nine – Amelie Delaine!"

The gawky girl from Nine walks onto the stage, obviously not knowing how to walk in heels since she doesn't even look balanced with them. She smiles awkwardly at the audience, not paying attention to where she's walking. Finally, after looking like a fool as she smiled to the crowd, she sits down. She fidgets in her seat, probably trying to get comfortable or look presentable.

Unlike me, some people aren't fit to be the center of attention. Not being intimidated by a crowd is a talent; a talent which I possess, and a talent that this girl does not.

The girl, Amelie, babbles on and on about her life back in District Nine. Like I, or anyone for that matter, really care? Cute, you write poetry. What else can you do? Draw a nice picture? Sing a nice song? Entertain me.

After that waste of time is finished with her interview, her District partner is up.

"Now, for Noah Miller!"

The young, feeble boy from Nine steps onto the stage, the beige tuxedo he is wearing barely fitting his frame. Frail, small, and pitiful is what he is. His outfit isn't doing any wonders for him either, so this is just another waste of an interview.

They should only let the people who are fit for interviews on to the stage. Everyone else is just a waste of my time.

The boy talks about his time in the Capitol, commenting on how nice the train rides were and how he was excited to get a one as a training score. A one. A one is the lowest you can get, yes? Why is he happy with that?

Ugh. People are ridiculous. No wonder I am so superior to people such as the two from Nine. It's almost saddening that they will die as soon as the Games start. If I lived in District Nine, I wouldn't even watch the Games this year. I would be too disgraced.

"May I present to you Lyra Bane from District Ten!"

I let out a snort, my laughter filling up the hallway that I'm standing in. Oh my, not _this_ girl. The bipolar one who I almost had to drop-kick during Training. She had the nerve to look at me and make a disgusted face? Does she not realize who I am? Cama Zale, thank you very much.

She incessantly smiles and talks about her life in District Ten, like anyone really cares. Cicero seems interested, though, but I'm sure it's just to get a lot of information out of her. She talks about horses and the scenery and how tranquil it was. At one question, though, Lyra seems to get a little mad.

"What do you think about your competition, Lyra?"

Lyra's muscles tense up, and she tries to cover it up with a smile and plays with her hair. "I don't judge people based on their skills with weaponry or how clever they are. Everyone has their own talents, and some might surprise you."

"Oh, now, that is interesting. Have you made acquaintances, allies, or enemies while you were in the Capitol?"

Lyra nods, "Sure. Enemies, not so much, but there is always that one person who is out to get you, you know? But I won't say any names."

"Aren't you sweet, Lyra," Cicero says, and then stands up and shakes Lyra's hand.

Lyra's interview is over, and as she walks past me I have the urge to say something to her, but someone is standing right in front of me, blocking my vision. It's her District partner, Asher.

_Break a leg, Asher. Seriously._

"Give a warm welcoming to District Ten's Asher Hadamik!"

This boy is interesting, really. He is. We received the same score as a five, and I wonder what he did to get his. He's always so stoic and isolated, but I don't see why. If he had the chance, I bet he could have gotten into the Careers. He's muscular and definitely knows how to keep himself alive.

Cicero and Asher go back and forth with each other, pulling some jokes on each other and talking about simple things. Cicero brings up District Ten, and that is when Asher gets into the conversation a little more.

"So, tell me, Asher. Who was that mysterious boy at the reaping? You know, that one that said 'Good riddance'?"

Asher's face goes emotionless, his eyes' direction going right towards the cameras. "No one important."

"No one important?" Cicero repeats, smiling to himself.

Asher shrugs, changing the subject. Cicero goes with it, but gives a few hints here and there about the boy. I must admit, I want to know as well, but it doesn't really matter. He'll be dead soon anyway, so his personal life isn't too important.

Asher walks off of the stage, walking nowhere near me. Good, I probably intimidated him. Just like his District partner, Lyra.

"May I introduce to you, Cama Zale of District Eleven!"

I fluff the bottom of my dress, making it look bigger and more luxurious. I strut onto the stage, walking in a stride and flaunting off my features. Sitting down on the seat across from Cicero, I pick up my dress and make sure to make it look presentable. I lean forward, showing off more of my dress and get comfortable in my seat.

All angles of me are good, but I'm not sure which angle of me will work best for the interviews.

"Hello, Cama, You sure are looking beautiful!"

I giggle, sounding like a child. "Oh, thank you, Cicero! You sure look handsome!"

"Thank you, Cama. How do you feel about your outfit tonight? It's unusual seeing someone from District Eleven as pretty as yourself."

I smile, twirling my hair with my finger and straightening my back in the chair. "That's flattering, Cicero. My outfit is gorgeous, and I owe my thanks to my wonderful stylist and her team. But, it takes someone as gorgeous as me to pull this outfit off!"

"You are correct!" Cicero laughs, holding out his hand and I grab his hand. "Is there anything you want to say to the Capitol?"

I tilt my head to the side, my curled hair dangling to the side. "I just want to let everyone know that I am a force to be reckoned with. Don't be fooled by just my looks. I'll tell you right know, I'm a girl of _many_ talents."

Cicero asks me a question or two more about District Eleven, and I don't show much interest in those questions. Even though I love District Eleven, I wasn't a fan of the Capitol's input and the Peacekeepers. I might as well show my distaste for that. My interview comes to an end, and I grab ahold of Cicero's face and kiss him right on the lips.

I most certainly just showed up that pretentious girl from District Two. She kissed him on the cheek, and well, I just kissed him on the lips.

I walk off the stage, debating whether to leave or stay for the rest of the interviews. I turn around, seeing that my District partner is about to take the stage, and then I decide to stay. I'm in the mood to laugh a little more and he will surely make a fool of himself during the next few minutes.

"Here is Dresden Scott from District Eleven!"

Dresden walks onto the stage, a childish smile on his face as he sits down on the seat. He looks around, probably feeling a little nervous. I wouldn't blame him, though. If you were about to die like this boy, wouldn't you be nervous?

Cicero and Dresden talk about his time in the Capitol and how he feels about going into the Hunger Games. Dresden tells the truth about everything, making himself seem weak and pitiful. I'm fine with that, really, since it means more sponsors for me.

"What about your alliance, Dresden? It's you, and the boys from Nine and Twelve? How do you feel about them?"

Dresden smiles and laughs. "We will try not to cause too much trouble in the arena."

Cicero laughs, but he obviously knows that those three boys will probably be the first three deaths in the Games. Cicero points to the side of the stage as Dresden exits the stage.

"Next up, we have Amara Dane!"

The masculine female from Twelve makes her way onto the stage, and I am in shock by her outfit. It isn't too feminine, seeing as it is black and is basically skin tight. Her muscles and toned body are distinct in the outfit, and you can see how muscular she really is. There are no designs on it, though, and it is a full body-suit. What is she doing? A black and skin tight full-body suit?

The first question that Cicero asks is about her. Obviously, that is the only thing that stands out about Amara. There isn't much to her. Amara tenses up at the mention of her sister, but she tells him everything he needs to know. How she misses her and how she will fight for her.

"That alliance with the girls from Five and Eight is rather… interesting. Tell me about that."

Amara becomes serious at this question, and you can see her muscles broaden from her outfit. "Interesting? How so? It's only an alliance."

"Yes, but they are so young. What made you choose them?"

"To protect them, Cicero. They're young and innocent, why should they go into the Games alone?"

Cicero nods, probably unsure of what to say to that. Her interview comes to an end, and Amara walks off of the stage, mumbling something to herself. The next interview will be the funniest one yet. No doubt.

"Lastly, we have Caolan Harper from District Twelve!"

Cicero stands there, his arm pointing towards the side of the stage, but no one appears. There are a few seconds of complete silence, no one in the audience even making any noise. Eventually, Caolan appears at the side of the stage. He walks forward very slowly, walking in a zigzag path. He wanders from here-to-there, and after a minute of him walking around and looking at everything, he sits down.

In the seat, he sits cross-legged, his black suit probably going to rip. Cicero says hell to him and asks him how he is feeling, but Caolan doesn't respond. He sits there, and then he reaches out to grab Cicero's hair.

"Your hair… is so blue! Is that water?" Caolan exclaims, being completely serious.

Cicero seems taken back by this, and pushes Caolan's away from his hair. Cicero sits back in his chair and Caolan copies his movements. When Cicero moves forward, so does Caolan. Caolan laughs to himself over this, and Cicero tries to smile and seem amused by this. After a few minutes of Caolan wasting Cicero's time, his interviews come to an end.

What's next? Oh, that's right. The Games.

And if I don't, I truly apologize to my District for letting such a disgrace represent District Eleven.

Even if I hate the Hunger Games with a passion, that doesn't mean I should just give up.

Cama Zale does not give up.

And that is why I will win.


	14. Launch

**Author's Note: **Exciting news! A poll is up; you have four choices to pick your favorite tributes, but it is a blind poll. Next chapter is the Bloodbath, and that is always exciting.

* * *

**Olivine Keenan  
District Two Female, 18 Years Old**

* * *

_The sandstorm becomes more intense, the sand whipping against my face, partially obstructing my vision. I pull the scarf up to my nose and squint my eyes, trying to see more than a few inches in front of me. It's to no avail, though, because everything just gets blurrier as they sandstorm gets worse. _

_In front of me, a figure appears, but as soon as I make my way over towards it, it begins to disappear. The figure turns into a shadow-like-figure, its particles drifting away with the stand, starting with its feet and ending with its head. I throw my arm out in front of me, trying to see if the figure is still there, but nothing is there. I spin around, trying to see where I should go next, but it all looks the same. It's all sand. _

_But that doesn't mean I can't win. I can still do this. I can still overcome any obstacle that comes in my way. Why couldn't I? It's only sand, isn't it?_

_It's only sand, Olivine. You can do anything you put your mind to._

_My mother taught me well, didn't she?_

The sound of someone banging their fist on my door startles me, waking me up and making my reflexes kick in. I roll off of the bed, standing up as soon as I hit the floor. I put my fists up, prepared to fight, but then I realize that it is only me in my room.

_Calm down, Olivine. You're not in the Hunger Games just yet._

The knocking on my door stops, and I sit back down on the edge of my bed. Wrapping the sheet around my head like a headpiece, I make faces to myself in the mirror in front of me. I begin to hum a high-pitched song, rocking my head back and forward to the beat of my own song.

There is another knock at my door. "Time to get dressed, Olivine!"

I sprint into the bathroom, turning on the water immediately. I undress quickly, not caring if I crinkle any of my clothes. Stepping into the shower, I press a bunch of random buttons and several shampoos and conditioners come out of a nozzle and I put all of them in my hair. At this point, I don't really care if I smell nice; I just want to leave this room. I wash myself with some soap too and make sure to keep my skin soft. Stepping out of the shower, I grab a few towels and begin to carelessly dry myself.

Opening the door, with my towel wrapped around me, I see my escort standing in front of me. At the sight of me in only a towel, she squeals and covers her eyes. She's such a prude, really. She's against any form of physical contact and doesn't like to see anything suggestive. She walks backwards, peeking through her fingers every few steps.

"I'll be out in a few minutes. Now, go cleanse your soul; you just witnessed nudity!"

Before I finish my words, I begin to giggle heartily and stick out my tongue at her. She nearly springs out of my room, not even shutting the door behind her. I can hear her shout something at Nero in the other room, and about a minute later, Nero comes into my room and shuts the door.

The black training suit is hanging on my wardrobe, the dullness and plainness of it still giving me a headache. I hope the outfit for the arena is a little fashionable than that. If it's not, I might have to spruce it up somehow in the arena. You must always like your best, and if you don't, well, then I feel sorry for you. People who look good are usually much perkier, while people who don't look good are much grouchier. I don the training suit, picking the boots up with my hands and sprint out of the room.

Once I'm in the main room, I sit down on the couch and slip my boots on. As I tie the shoe-laces, Nero comes and sits down next to me on it. He is wearing the same training suit as I am, but I look much better than he does.

I smile creepily at him, crossing my eyes. "Hi, Nero."

Nero smirks, but tries hard not to laugh. "Get your game face on, Olivine."

I grunt, broadening my shoulders, and punch him in the shoulder. I try to punch him again, but he grabs my fist with his hand before I come into contact with his shoulder. Grabbing him with my other arm, he pins me down on the couch and we begin to playfully wrestle. I punch him in one spot, he pinches me in another, and then a minute later, we're on top of each other. We're acting like children, really.

The television suddenly turns on, and we both turn our heads, looking to see who turned it on. Behind us is Tyson, one of our mentors, and behind him is Serpentine, looking creepy as ever. Tyson points to the television, and Nero and I are instantly distracted by what is on.

It's the Eleventh Hunger Games, where District Two brought home another victor. The seventeen year-old Trace brought prestige to District Two, being the second victor that District Two ever brought home. I'm not even sure why this is the Hunger Games he picked, since this year is just… odd.

I have heard rumors that this was the arena to mock the famine that was going on Districts Nine, Ten, and Eleven. They were facing some overpopulation problems, which lead to food shortages and a minor famine. I'm not sure if the arena was made to mock them or anything, but the interesting was ridiculous nonetheless. Basically, it was a grocery store. A multi-level grocery store and I think it was ten levels all together. Some of the food was poisonous and inedible, while some of it was nourishing and edible.

The scene that is being shown is the battle between the final two – the male from Two, Trace, and the male from District Seven. Trace is equipped with a large cleaver, while the District Seven male has a simple throwing axe. They're both around the same height, weight, and muscular ability, and it is a pretty close fight. The male from Seven injured Trace, Trace retaliated and injured the boy from Seven, and it continued. It goes on and on for several minutes, the two of them clashing their weapons against each other and then backing up.

Eventually, Trace takes it into his own hands. As the boy from Seven strikes at him one more time, Trace brings down the cleaver on his hand. As the boy loses his hand, he uses the other hand to slash Trace in the stomach with his axe. Trace buckles over, as well as the boy, and they both fall to the ground, their moans being the only thing you can hear. After a while, Trace stands up feebly, and raises the cleaver above the boy's neck.

Just as Trace is about to bring down the cleaver on his neck, the television turns off. I snap out of my daze, and turn back towards Tyson and Serpentine.

"Did you learn anything from that video?"

I pretend to play stupid at Tyson's question, tilting my head backwards with a finger on my chin. I hum, blink several times, and make silly faces.

"I got it!" I exclaim. "The lesson is to not let some dolt from Seven invade on your personal space!"

Tyson shakes his head, "No, Olivine. Wrong, per usual. What about you Nero?"

"It's to not be careless," Nero says, still staring at the television. "And to make sure you know your opponents' movements."

Tyson claps, a smile on his face that bespeaks gratitude. Nero nods, and stands up and goes into another room. I don't follow where he's going, simply because he isn't himself anymore. He's been moody lately and something has definitely come over him. Tyson follows after his son, and I don't even know where Serpentine. She's always doing that, you know, just disappearing.

I sit back, looking out the windows at the top of the ceiling. Birds fly overheard, and one or two hovercrafts pass as well. More and more birds of different colors and shapes continue to fly overheard, putting me into some kind of trance.

Doesn't that seem nice? To be… _free_?

Free from laws, regulations, and expectations. To be a bird, you can go anywhere you want and you can do whatever you want. There is no one restricting you or telling you what to do.

It just seems so… _perfect_.

Why can't I have that?

_Well, it's simple, Olivine. You're destined for great things. And there is only way to achieve that – winning the Hunger Games. _

* * *

**Sinter Farwood  
District Five Male, 16 Years Old**

* * *

Sitting down on the metal chair in front of me, I strap the seatbelt on and get comfortable in the chair. To the right of me, a few inches away, is the District Eight male, and to the left is the District Nine female. They both look at me, smiling, and I only reply with a simple nod.

_What's there to smile about? Do you not realize where we are going?_

In the hovercraft, pacing back and forth, are two Capitol people. One is a man and one is a woman, both dressed in white clothes and white lab coats. There are also two Peacekeepers at the back of the hovercraft, prepared to stop any tribute that gets out of control. Starting from the first row of tributes, the Capitol people inject something into their arm with quite a long needle.

I watch each tribute's reaction as they realize what the Capitol people are doing. The District One girl doesn't even flinch, and neither do the other Careers, except for the girl from Four. She twitches a little, obviously feeling pain from that injection. On my side of the row, on the other side of the hovercraft, the Capitol man is starting at the end of the row. The first person to get the injection is the male from Seven, who doesn't show any discomfort either. The man continues, going from each person to person. Next up is the male from Eight, who shows a little discomfort from the injection. He rubs his arm afterwards, and I look down at his arm. There is a blinking light in his arm that goes up his arm, but then it eventually stops. He rolls down his sleeve and sits back.

The Capitol man grabs my arm, and presses the needle against my arm. Quickly, before I can say anything, he presses down on the needle and a small ball of light is in my arm as well. I look back up at him, and he goes to the girl from Nine next to me. In astonishment, I look back down at my arm. How is there no blood?

The girl next to me lets out a small squeal, rubbing her arm where the needle was afterwards. Eventually, the man and woman are done injecting the tributes with their trackers and disappear to somewhere else in the hovercraft. I look around, taking in all of the tributes.

I can't get over that this might be the final moments for some of these tributes. They can be dead in about an hour. _I_ could be dead in about an hour. Perhaps I'm overthinking it, but it just seems surreal to me. We all could be dead in an hour. All of us.

As much as I want to disagree with my own thoughts, they're true. I am in no way a psychic who can tell the future, but I can at least predict the future. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses, but that doesn't mean anything. The arena could be something I'm not adapted to at all, or it could be something that is in my element. No one is prepared for every type of environment, not even the Careers. Anything could happen in that arena, and I've seen it done before.

Like Lennon, for example. Lennon is the victor of the Twelfth Hunger Games, and she is also my mentor. The only reason I have watched her Games a few times is only because she is the only victor that District Five has. Even in the Capitol, I watched re-caps from her Games. I tried to pick up on what she did that could help me in the Games. What was she capable of that helped her win? And, more importantly, why is she the only that could win for District Five?

Was she special? It sure doesn't seem like it. But, she sure was lucky.

In her Games, her arena was a castle of some sort. It started out on the top of a castle tower, and all of the tributes had to get down from it. A few tributes died from falling, or being thrown off of, the tower. Lennon survived, and managed to get a few supplies and weapons along the way. She was only fifteen at the time, so she was one of the younger tributes. The thing that doesn't make sense to me is how lucky she was. Whenever the Careers were chasing after her, a trap sprung, and whenever someone found her, another trap was sprung. They weren't even traps that were made by her; they were Gamemaker traps. Obviously, the Capitol saw something in her that they wanted in a victor.

I'm not sure if the Capitol sees that something in me too.

Without even realizing it, the hovercraft has landed. I get a little nervous, feeling constrained in the seat and a little claustrophobic. One by one, the tributes are escorted out of the hovercraft. Next up is Minx and I, and she latches onto my arm as I walk out of the hovercraft with her. The wind whips against our faces, and Minx's hair begins to get messy and wild.

We are already in a building of some sort, and it's almost like a garage. There are twenty-four doors on one wall, and there is one for each tribute. At the end, there is the girl from One, followed by the rest of the tributes in a girl-boy order. I stand in front of the door to the right of Minx, and once all of the tributes are in front of their doors, they open.

I walk forward, the darkness of the room engulfing me. At the end of a short hallway is a larger door and it looks rather impenetrable and hefty. I walk down the hallway, resisting the urge to look back behind me.

There is no looking back now. I, Sinter Farwood, am about to enter the Hunger Games.

I approach the door and it opens automatically. Standing in the room are my escort, Felix, and his prep team. Felix is holding some sort of luggage to his side, and in unison, the two prep team members grab it and open it up in front of me.

It's a camouflage suit. I take it out, examining it thoroughly. There are different shades of green, brown, and even yellow on it and it is definitely supposed to be camouflage. I undress slowly, still looking at the training suit.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that it will be something with nature."

I nod, agreeing that the arena is probably something to do with nature. Felix snaps, gesturing for me to hurry up undressing, and I obey. Once I'm undressed, his prep team begin to help me put the outfit on. It's a full body-suit, one that starts from my feet and goes up to my neck. There's even a hood on it. The boots are camouflage as well, and I put those on. I step back, looking at myself in the mirror.

All camouflage. It's nice in a way. This could be helpful if the arena is what I think it is. I could blend in with the foliage, hiding from the predators. I pat down the outfit, seeing if it does anything special or if there is anything on it.

And that's when I remember what I'm missing. My token.

I walk back over towards the pile of clothes that I was wearing before, and take the spool of thread out of my pocket. The spool of thread is heavy, but I still don't feel anything in my pocket, despite its weight. My parents used to use this for book repairs, and then I took it as my token. It says a lot about my family.

It literally represents the store that my family owns, but it could mean a lot more. When you pull the thread, unraveling it, it could represent my family. My parents have been unraveling, as in threatening to separate from each other, but they never have. They know how much family means to me and how much I love them both. They work hard and try their hardest to make money, but sometimes they don't fulfill their needs. I'm not sure how my parents feel about this, though.

I'm sure they've gotten over me being reaped. At the good-byes, they were complete messes, but I don't blame them. I would be a wreck too if one of my siblings were reaped. Now, all they can do is hope for the best. They can only hope that I return home as victor. Whether or not that is farfetched, they can't lose hope.

I _need _them to have hope for me. When they lose hope, I lose hope. And hope is a driving factor in the Hunger Games. It's hope that drives you to win and become victor.

Without hope, what are you? A void of a soul, only playing the Games by the rules with no real motivation.

And I can't let that happen to me. I can only hope for my own survival. I can only hope that I will go home to my family.

I can only _hope_.

* * *

**Tobias Cress  
District Seven Male, 17 Years Old**

* * *

Looking upwards, I notice that the entrance into the arena is covered. I'm not sure exactly what it is covered by, but it looks like vines of some sort because it looks grassy and twisted. Some sunlight from above is peeking through the vines, the suns' ray shining down through the vines onto my outfit and the pedestal. After a few seconds, I realize that the vines aren't going anywhere and I'm sure I am supposed to rip them somehow.

I hunch over, putting my head in between my legs, and broaden my shoulders. I wait for the moment where my back and shoulders will come into contact with the vines, and after a few more seconds, they do. The force from my back and shoulders rip right through the vines, and the vines fall down the ground in front of me.

I am still hunched over, and just from the view that I have, I can see grass all around. Looking up, I see a few bushes to both sides of me and one bush in front of me. The torn up vines are in front of me now, the pieces of the vines spread out around me. After I recollect myself from getting distracted by the foliage around me, my attention is directed to the center of the arena.

In the center of the arena, there is a small pond of some sort. There is cement surrounding it, but not all of the ground, since most of it is grass. The stone structure in the center with the pond in it probably goes up to about my knees, and the water in it doesn't look too clean. Inside of the stone structure, besides the pond, is a bunch of lily pads, but they aren't pretty. The lily pads look old and rotten, the brown on it indicating that the lily pads aren't cared for too well.

But then I suddenly realize something. There is no Cornucopia. Well, there is, but not what I expected.

Hanging from a few vines above the pond is a Cornucopia. An actual whicker Cornucopia, as in the one you're supposed to put fruits and vegetables in on special days. Inside of the Cornucopia is a book of some sort, but I can't see the cover or read the text on it fully from where I am.

As the other tributes begin to notice that there is no Cornucopia, a perplexed look appears on their face. The District One male, Cove, I think his name is, laughs. He muffles his laughter, but you can still hear him laughing as he points at the whicker Cornucopia in the center of the arena. Well, now there is officially no purpose in going to the Cornucopia.

Usually, the Cornucopia is a large structure that is filled with weapons, supplies, and everything else you can think of. I guess the Gamemaker this year wanted to change things up. Nonetheless, this is not in the tributes' favor. Now, we will have to find our own food, weapons, and supplies, unless the sponsors decide to help. But, not everyone has sponsors, and I'm not even sure if I have sponsors.

I can't say the same for my District partner, as well as my ally, though. I don't know whether Seer has sponsors or not, but to be honest, I don't think she will have too many. During her interviews, she acted all sweet and innocent, but it's all a façade. I can read people pretty well, and she is just another specimen that I watched carefully and figured out. Seer is most certainly not what she says she is, but I won't tell anyone.

Besides, is anyone truly what they seem? Of course not. Like Velour and Ivonette; they aren't what they seem.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing glass behind me. The whole room is circular, and the walls of it are all glass. On the ground, going around the perimeter of the room, are bushes. There are at least six or seven bushes between each tribute, putting some space between all of us.

From the bottom of my peripheral vision, I see something moving. I glance around my feet, seeing that the vines are – moving? All of the vines that I tore through before are slowly moving towards each other, coming together to form something. I look around and notice that everyone else's' vines are doing the same thing. Everyone is looking down at their feet, seeing what the vines are about to do. I look back down at the ground as well, and I catch on to what the vines are doing; they're forming numbers.

This is the final countdown. This is it.

The first number that the vines form is a '15'. Next, it forms a '14'. As each second passes, it changes into the next number. '13' comes next, followed by '12', then '11', and then '10'.

_A _'9' comes after that.

_This is for my 'Podunk' District. This is for the District that I love and for the District with the people that I have never seen anything like them before. This is for all of the hard work they, including me, have put forth to satisfy the Capitol. This is for you, District Seven. _

Then a '8'.

_But I'm not doing this for the Capitol. I'm not going to prove something to the dictatorial figure that has total control over my life. The figure that has ruined my life, as well as my friends' and families' lives. I won't participate in the Hunger Games for the Capitol's entertainment; I am going to participate for my own survival and preservation._

Then a '7'.

_I have never been persecuted by the Peacekeepers or the mayor or anything, but that doesn't change my opinion. But, once, I watched them whip one of my neighbors in the District Square. What the Capitol does is terrible and I pity how esteemed they think they are. Do they not realize what they are doing? They are heading down the road to their own downfall._

Then a '6'.

_For all I know, I could be leading to my own downfall as well. In the Hunger Games, that is, since I could die anytime by anyone. I view the Games as an unnecessary waste of life, but every year I watch them anyway. Despite my revulsion, I fixate on the violence with a morbid fascination. What happens in the Hunger Games is so surreal and it doesn't seem real. But, now that I am here, I realize that it is real. And I could be the next victim._

Then a '5'.

_Arrogance is a downfall, and so is modesty. If you overestimate yourself, you get yourself in trouble, but if you underestimate yourself, you don't realize your full potential. I am neither of those things. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses. I'm straight-forward with myself, and I know what I can do and can't do. And that is what will help me in these Games._

Then a '4'.

_The Careers, on the other hand, are all arrogant. The pair from One – Cove and Velour – are perky and arrogant. The pair from Two – Nero and Olivine – are advanced and arrogant. The pair from Four – Adam and Mariel – are stoic and arrogant. They're all arrogant in one way or another, and that is what will be their downfall. Obviously, arrogance can't technically kill someone, only a person can. _

Then a '3'.

_In the Hunger Games, people kill people, regardless of emotions or feelings. Personally, I don't actively seek violence, but I have no qualms about fighting with other people. If it's for survival and self-defense, then I will fight someone, but if it's for pleasure, then I might not. It all depends. Even if the Hunger Games are about death, I won't become one of those tributes who are all about killing and winning. If I die, I will be the same person I was prior to the Hunger Games._

Then a '2'.

_All of it has come down to this. Do I run, or do I try to find Seer. If I try to find Seer, I might get into a fight, and I can't risk my safety this early on in the Games. I can't let myself die this early on, either. If I am destined to die, I will go down with a fight. I will go down while doing the things I do best. _

Then a '1'.

_You can do this, Tobias. You're quick, clever, and physically fit. Plus, you received a training score of seven. If this isn't an indicator that you can actually win, then I'm not sure what is. Don't let your guard down, Tobias, and do your best. _

The words my mother said to me during the good-byes recollect in my mind, making me feel nostalgic and I feel some sense of disconnection between my mother and I. She gave me a blood-red marble that my grandmother owned before she died of a disease during the good-byes too, and I caress the spot in my pocket where it is.

Then a '0'.

_And it begins._

"_Let the Twentieth Annual Hunger Games begin!" _


	15. Arena: Day One

**Author's Note:** That poll is still up, so keep on voting. The deaths will be notified on the blog as well. You have fun now!

w w w. fromthegrounduphg. blogspot. c o m

* * *

**Amelie Delaine  
District Nine Female, 16 Years Old  
Day One: Bloodbath: Part I**

* * *

"_Let the Twentieth Annual Hunger Games begin!" _

I jump off of my platform, prepared to sprint towards one of the four doors, but I get caught one of the vines that is only a few inches away from my pedestal. I yelp as the vines and weeds get wrapped around my foot, pulling me down. I stumble forward about to fall, but I grab onto one of the shrugs and pull myself back up. I look at the shrug and notice a few blood droplets on it, and then I look at my hand, and there it is; a wound. The shrub is a rather small that is a dark green color and has some sort of spikes on it. I just hope that those spikes weren't poisonous.

I gather my thoughts and body back together and direct my attention towards the door closest to me. I crouch down, trying to hide myself and to avoid being detected, and begin to shuffle towards that door. There are several bushes placed around the outer-edges of the circular room, and I move along the wall, hiding behind the bushes after every few steps.

If I were to be caught, I would have no chance of survival. Even though there are no weapons or supplies, except for whatever is in that whicker-cornucopia, I am still not safe. The Careers are still out there, and so are other competitors like Seer and Amara, or anyone for that matter. At this point, everyone is an enemy and I have to try my hardest.

I am at the last bush that surrounds the outer-edges of the room, and the door is still a few feet away. I lunge forward, prepared to sprint off directly into the door, but from the corner of my eye, I notice the Careers gathered in the center of the room. The District Two female, Olivine, goes off into one of the other rooms by herself. I crawl backwards and hide behind the bush. I go inside the bush, being poked by the branches, leaves, and there are some small insects inside of it. With my hands, I move some of the branches and leaves out of the way to create a small opening.

The District One female, Velour, and the District Four male, Adam, are cornering the District Twelve male, Caolan, into a corner. To the right of them is an open space with heavy shrubbery, foliage, and there are definitely muttations in there. Caolan tries to crawl away, but Velour grabs onto his foot and pulls him backwards. She gets on top of him, pins his arms behind his back, and then grabs some of the vines from the right of her. She wraps the vines around Caolan's arms tightly and then gets off of him. Velour nods at Adam, gesturing for something, but I don't know what.

Just when I think it's over, Adam picks Caolan up in his arms, and then throws him into the area to the right of them with the thick shrubbery and foliage. Once Caolan's body smacks against the floor, the shrubbery is squished under his weight, except for one plant. Caolan flips over his body and lands directly on this one plant. The plant instantly begins to grow, and once it is at least half the size of Caolan, you can notice its wide leaves that are edged with spikes, its enormous roots, and finally, the carnivorous aspect of it all. The plant continues to grow, and once the plant is at least double the size of Caolan, it opens up. Inside, it's a purple color and there are a lot of sharp teeth. The plant nips at him, and all Caolan can do is try to crawl away.

Cove, Velour, Nero, Adam, and Mariel are all standing around this monstrosity of a plant, staring in awe. All of them back away once the plant has reached a mammoth size; it takes up the whole side of that room, even though the ceilings are tall. If the Careers were smart, they would get out of the room and come back after this thing is gone, but they are probably too interested in what is about to happen.

The plant continues to nip at him, and manages to tear off some of his skin, and then after the plant lunges at him once more, it rips off his leg. Caolan shrieks in pain, but he clenches his mouth shut and continues to roll around on the ground. His moaning becomes louder and louder, and then it begins to silence. The blood is flowing out into a puddle around him, and it seems like it's painful. When Caolan looks directly at the plant, his eyes widen and he tries to kick at with his legs.

Unfortunately, he can't do much since his hands are constricted. Caolan stops squirming around and lies there, still moaning. The plant opens its mouth, and then hovers over Caolan. It descends towards him slowly, and then Caolan is out of view. With one gulp, the plant swallows him whole and you can see Caolan in its stem being gulped down. His body is still and you can't hear his moans anymore. His body descends into the ground, and as his body goes into the ground, the plant begins to shrink again.

Cove bursts out into a chuckle, and the rest of the Careers just look at him in bewilderment. I assume Velour is the leader of the Careers from her actions and words. She waves her hand in the air, says something that I cannot hear, and then points towards at each of the doors.

Realizing that I shouldn't stay here any longer, I bend my knees and getting into a sprinting position. I take off and begin sprinting towards the door, and luckily, none of the Careers notice me. I hide behind the wall, and peek at the Careers one more time. They are huddled around the circular stone structure that is filled with water in the center of the room.

Mariel leans against the stone structure, Cove goes into one room, Adam goes into another room, and then Velour and Nero begin to jog towards the room I am in. They have probably decided to go in different directions, without going into the room that Olivine has already went into, to scout for tributes and to go hunting. I walk backwards while keeping an eye on the two Careers until the wall blocks my view.

I turn around, frantically trying to find another hiding spot. I clench my fist and feel something moist, and then I remember that hand is still bleeding. I look back at the wall, and then see that I left some of the blood on it. I look back towards my first hiding spot and see more blood on the ground.

_Really, Amelie? This is one way to get yourself killed._

Behind me is a bed of flowers that go up to my knees, and are a variety of colors; blue, orange, yellow, red, white, black, and many more. I go on my hands and knees and crawl into the bed of flowers. The flowers rub against my face, and the scent and feel of them makes me feel relaxed. The sound of Velour's and Nero's boots against the floor gets louder and louder, meaning that they are getting closer.

"Faster, Nero!"

Velour screeches at her ally, and then the sound of their boots against the floor becomes much louder and the sound of it makes me flinch. I look up and see a glimpse of Velour's face; pristine condition, delicate features, and a snarky grin on her face. Nero's face comes into view too, and I catch a glimpse of that as well; sweaty, sharp features, and a grimace smirk on his face. Nero runs right past me, but Velour stops once she notices the blood on the ground and on the wall.

"Nero, come see this."

Nero stops short, turns on his heel, and then jogs back towards Velour. Velour points at the blood on the ground with her right hand and at the blood on the wall with her left hand. Velour stares at the blood and Nero raises his eyebrows. He wipes the blood with his finger, smells the blood on his finger, and then rubs it between his fingers.

"That's blood," Nero declares.

Velour rolls her eyes, "No, really?"

Nero sighs, "You know what I mean, Velour. That means someone is nearby."

Velour smirks, "Let's go find them."

Velour and Nero begin sprinting towards the door in the opposite direction than the original area. I let out a sigh of relief, and then Nero stops in his tracks. Nero turns around and surveys the area, and I hear cover my mouth with my hands. Velour is still ahead of him, and Nero looks at the distance between the two of them, and then goes to catch up with her. I am thankful that they did notice me, because if they did, I would have undoubtedly been killed.

It's not safe anyway in here. Everywhere you go there will be either a tribute, muttation, or even a trap awaiting your arrival. For now, I need to find a place to sleep, some food and water, and a weapon of some sort. I know this will be difficult, since from the looks of it, the arena is small and lacks supplies and weapons.

I slowly get up, watching my surroundings very carefully. I peek around the door once more, and only Mariel is in there. She is skimming her finger through the water in the stone structure. Out of all of the Careers, Mariel is the most quiet and the most relatable. She's like me and if we were under different circumstances, we probably could have been friends. But in the arena that wouldn't work; friendship is tested, betrayed, and destroyed.

I walk against the outer-edge of the long rectangular room I am in. I skim my right hand against the wall while humming a quiet tune. There is a small opening in the ground in the corner of the room. The hole is between two bushes that are hiding its location. It almost looks secret, like it wasn't supposed to be found that easily. I crouch down and look into it. It is open and big enough for me to climb into it, and it's a tunnel. I crawl into the entrance, and dirt and pebbles surround me. There are only about two turns in the dirt tunnel, and then I see an opening.

Inside, there are rows and rows of flowers and in the center there is a large tree with blossoming flowers on it. The colors of everything are alluring and my interest is keeping me from abandoning this entrance. The grass is very soft moist.

My full body is inside of the room now, and I push myself up against the wall to help myself stand up. The air in this room is crisper and fresher; it smells like flowers and other natural scents. The tree in the center draws me in, and I saunter over towards it with my arm extended in front of me. I rub my hand against the bark of the tree and then I pick one of the flowers.

I squeeze the flower with my fingers and a puff of some type of gas shoots out of it. The gas goes into my mouth and nostrils, and I can feel it traveling through my body. I begin to feel dozy and I can feel my body and muscles losing energy. I fall to my knees and then slump my body to the side. My head falls onto the grass gently and I don't feel any pain. My eyes begin to squint by themselves and I notice a glisten of metal only a few inches ahead of me. I reach my arm out and grab whatever it is.

It is made of some type of metal or iron, and it is extremely cold. I begin to feel the item and find a handle. I grasp the handle with my hand, wrapping it tightly and securely. It feels like a hand-held gardening shovel, just like one of the ones I used back in District Nine.

I can still feel the gas traveling through my body, and I begin to doze off. My eyes close and I try to open them, but they remain shut. I feel as if my body is being thrown off a cliff and spinning around in circles on its way down, and then I get one last rush. It feels like my body has just smacked against the ground, and my body convulses. After this last sudden movement, my body goes silent. All I can hear is the beating of my heart and my own thoughts.

I begin to drift off into a deep sleep, thinking of District Nine. My job, my family, my friends, my poetry, my _life_.

_What is going to happen to me? _

* * *

**Olivine Keenan  
District Two Female, 18 Years Old  
Day One: Bloodbath: Part II**

* * *

"_Let the Twentieth Annual Hunger Games begin!" _

As the gong sounds, the tributes begin to sprint away from our current location, except for the youngling from District Five. I stare at her, smirking, watching her every moment. I recall her name as Minx, and she is one of the younger and smaller tributes in the Games this year. Once she realizes that I am staring at her, she takes off, but she isn't the fastest runner and she moves slowly. I begin to run in her direction as well, and I catch up to her in the matter of seconds.

Of course, since there are no weapons, I cannot kill her quickly or easily. I chase after her for a few more seconds, and notice something else; her hair is flowing behind her as she runs, and I could easily reach out and grab it. As I catch up to her even closer, I reach out my hand and wrap her hair around my hands. She stumbles a little, and the two of us continue to run after each other. I inhale deeply, clench my fists, and then yank the little girl down to the ground by her hair.

Minx's hair is not as luscious as mine and she definitely did not condition after using shampoo.

As the girl's body slams against the ground, she yelps in pain and tries to loosen my grip on her. I press down on her arms with my hands, pinning her down to the ground. Now that I have her pinned down, I have to figure out a way to kill her. Before contemplating the ways of killing Minx, I can see someone else from the corner of my eye. It's the District Nine male, Noah, who runs into the room that is only a few feet away from me. No one else has gone into that room yet, and to be honest, he might be easier to kill and it might be a tad more fun.

Decisions, decisions.

I narrow my eyes, stare deeply into the girl's eyes, and then let her go. As soon as my hands let go of her arms, she gets up and sprints away, not looking back for even a second. I run my hand through my hair, fix my eyelashes, and then check my nails to see if any of them are broken.

Luckily, I look as pristine as ever.

I stand up slowly, watching each and every tribute and their actions. My allies, who I cannot locate in my peripheral vision, are probably chasing after some tributes. They don't have weapons either, so they must be under the same circumstances as I am; trying to figure out a clever and quick way to kill someone.

The District Nine boy is in the room ahead of me, looking around frantically, probably looking for somewhere to go or hide. I push myself up off of the ground and stand up straight. I can let myself not be so paranoid in the Bloodbath, since there are no weapons, no ways to kill someone swiftly, and I am sure no one would attack a Career this early on.

I walk forward, still keeping an eye on Noah. He notices me coming and jumps into a bush to the side of him. I'm not really sure if he really thinks that by hiding in a bush I won't find him, but I'll play along. I might as well make this enjoyable for the Capitol.

"Where did he go?" I cry.

I hear Noah gasp in the bushes, and I saunter over towards it very slowly, looking everywhere but at the bush. I place my hand on top of the bush, the thistles of it pricking my hand slightly.

"I think I lost him!"

I sit down on a log that is on the opposite side of the room from the bush. I lean towards the back of me, letting my hair dangle behind me and press my hand against my forehead. I close my eyes purposely, letting Noah think that I am not looking anymore. Once I hear someone step out of the bush, I open my eyes quickly. In front of me, Noah is standing there in shock, his mouth hanging open and his eyes widened.

"Hi, Noah. Come sit with me?"

I wave him over, patting the spot next to me on the log with my hand. He doesn't move, and then I wink at him. He shakes his head at my gesture and begins to walk backwards. He really is stupid; thinking that he can escape me after being in my presence for this long.

"What's wrong? I can't kill you, anyway. I have no weapons."

"You don't?" He manages to say, choking on his words.

I throw my hands up in the air, looking hopeless and showing him that I don't have any weapons. He hesitantly walks over to me, sits down, and scoots over towards the opposite way once he sits down. I slide down the log, moving towards him, and pick up a rock off of the ground. I begin to file my nails with the rock, making them much sharper than they already are.

"Hello, Noah. I am Olivine, from District Two."

"I know who you are," he says, "You're a Career."

I smile, "That's correct. And you're from District Nine, yes?"

"Yes," he replies, his voice trembling.

"So, tell me about yourself. Do you like the Games?"

I continue filing my nails with the rock, making them sharper and more rigid. I run them against the log, creating several scratches in the log. As Noah mumbles something about the Games and how he doesn't like them, I wrap my arm around his neck. Noah's neck tenses up from my touch, and I push him closer to me with my arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing," I say, "Just getting comfortable."

He continues to babble on about something, and I wrap my hand around his neck comfortably, making sure to make it tight enough that he can't escape. He gasps, scrambling as he tries to get my hands off of him, and watches me from the corner of his eye.

"Stop it!"

And this is where the fun begins.

I tighten my grip on his neck, hearing several crunches and cracks. Starting from the back of his neck, I begin to drag my nails along his neck gently. Small droplets of blood seep out of his neck, and the only noises he manages to make are soft moans. I drag my hand along his neck all the way around to the other side, and then I glance at his neck; there are five thin scratches that are all seeping blood.

Noah tries to say something, but all you can hear is blood gurgling inside of his throat and some blood dribbles out of his mouth. I wrap my hand around his neck one more time, and this time, I cut his throat much deeper, causing a lot more blood to pour out of this throat.

I keep myself a few inches away from him now, since I don't want any of his blood on me. That would ruin my outfit, and the camouflage on it is awful enough.

Noah's body slumps onto me, and I push him off and keep him sitting up with my arm. He isn't dead just yet, since I can hear him breathing very slowly, but he is dying very slowly. After a few more seconds of me dragging my nails across his neck, his finally slumps against me one last time, indicating that he has finally died. As the blood pours out of his neck, I try to position myself in a way that won't get any blood on me. I put my hands on each of his shoulders and hold him in the position that he is in.

Once I stand up straight, I throw Noah backwards off of the bench, and pick a flower off of the ground. It's a light-yellow color, and the smell of it is wonderful. I would definitely use a perfume with this scent. The blood continues to pour out of his throat, and his clothes become drenched in it and his face begins to be smothered with his own blood.

I throw the flower on him, and it lands on his face, in between his two eyes. Even when you die, you should look beautiful. Even though the blood is ruining this boy's beauty, I might as well add a little color to it.

The rock that I used before is on the ground next to my foot, and I pick it up again, and as I reach for it, I notice the blood that is all over my fingers. The blood on my fingers begins to drip down onto my hands, and I feel disgusting. I hold my hands out in front of me, trying not to let the blood touch anymore of my body.

Back where the Games began, there is a circular stone structure in the center that has water in it. Going there would probably be the best idea to get this blood off of me. I walk through the door back into the room where we began, and I hold my hands out even further and put a distressed look on my face.

"Ugh! This is disgusting!"

I walk with a much faster pace to the structure in the center of the room, feeling a little uneasy from the blood on my hands. When I finally reach the structure, I place the rock down on the edge of it and I submerge my hands in the water that fills it. I swish them around underwater, scrub them, and rub them against each other to make sure all of the blood washes off of me. After washing them for a minute or two, I remove my hands, and immediately feel a burning and itching sensation on my hands.

It feels as if someone shoved my hands in freezing water and then poured ice-cubs on top of them. Maybe that boy's blood is poisonous; I always knew peasants from outer-Districts were filthy. As I reach to grab the rock from the edge, I knock it into the water by accident. I hover over the water, trying to locate the rock, and as I look for it, I notice something that looks like a face at the bottom of the water.

Is that Noah's face?

Of course not. He's dead. Besides, how would that be possible? How could his face appear in the water?

I shake the thoughts out of my head, not letting myself clog my mind up with stuff that is irrelevant. From this point on, I need to put my game-face on and make sure to let everyone know that I am serious about winning. I flip my hair, smile widely, and bat my eyelashes. I continue to file my nails with the rock, giggling softly. My nails are too pointy now, and I begin to make them shorter and smoother now.

I've made on kill so far, and I'll save another one for tomorrow. I don't want to waste too much energy on killing; I still need some to look beautiful.

_Stop the presses: Olivine has only just begun, and there will be a lot more for you to see._

* * *

**Kaelyn Taitrin  
District Three Female, 16 Years Old  
Day One: Afternoon**

* * *

_Boom! Boom!_

Only two.

There have been only two deaths so far.

How are the Gamemakers happy with this outcome?

Usually, the Gamemakers try to make the Bloodbath one of the most bloodiest, intense, and memorable moments, but in this year's games it's one of the most insignificant events. I guess the small Bloodbath was what the Gamemakers wanted, in order to add emphasis to the arena itself. There was no Cornucopia, and there were also no weapons or supplies around the area. The environment and decorations are interesting as well; flowers, bushes, trees, leaves, dirt, rocks, soil, and many other things that relate to nature.

After racking my memory for a word, I remembered one – Greenhouse.

This year's arena is a greenhouse. I'm not used to something like this; one of the reasons why I'm not is because in District Three we never had anything like this. I have only heard about greenhouses in school once. Admittedly, I am not prepared or trained enough for this type of arena. Robin and I haven't found any weapons or supplies yet, and I'm not sure we will.

As soon as the games began, Robin and I sprinted out of there. He didn't really wait for me, but I caught up to him. We kept running and running until we were both out of breath. We passed through several rooms, and I didn't look at much of the scenery in those rooms. At the moment, we are in a large room that is inhabited by large trees, vines, and bushes. The whole room is made out of glass, and the sun shines down into the room, casting shadows of everything.

We have been hiding behind a large tree that has a branch hanging down. It's hiding us, and no one tributes have found us yet, but we will have to leave eventually. Even though I'd like to stay here for the rest of the games, I know that I won't be able to.

I rest my head on Robin's shoulder, and he rests his head on top of my head.

Robin was a challenge at first. He didn't want to be my friend or ally, but I kept trying. I wouldn't give up, since he was the only person that I feel comfortable around. Eventually, he listened to me, accepted my offer of being allies, and now we are friends. There isn't much of a relationship between us, since I have someone back home, and for Robin, I'm not sure what he has back home. We don't talk about our lives back in District Three often, and I'm fine with that.

"Kaelyn, we should go somewhere else."

I pout, "Why?"

"It's not safe here; the shadows will give away our location."

I stand up, "Fine. You can lead the way."

Robin holds out his hand and I help him stand up. We make eye-contact for a second, smirk at each other, and then both of our faces go emotionless after a few seconds. We should pretend to be in love with each other, but he probably won't like that idea. The sponsors would love that, and to be honest, we need as many sponsors as we can get.

As of now, things aren't looking too good for us.

Robin leads, and I follow him. We step over several branches and vines, trying not to get caught by anything. We look all around the room every minute just to make sure no one is following us. I stop for a second and kneel down. I wipe the ground with my hand, feeling the dry soil in my palm. The texture is dry and definitely not suitable for vegetation of any sorts. I stand back up and wipe the dirt off of my pants.

Looking back at where Robin was a minute ago, I notice that no one is there anymore. I turn around frantically, shaking incessantly. I can't see him anymore, and he isn't anywhere to be found. I sprint forward, not paying attention to the ground or anything in my way.

"Robin! Robin! Robin!"

I trip on a large branch on the ground, falling over, hitting my face on impact. I curl up in a ball on the ground, mumbling Robin's name over and over again. I close my eyes, trying to hold back any tears. In my nose, I feel something moist and then wipe it with my hand. From the impact, I hit my nose, giving myself a bloody nose. On the ground, blood is all over the place, staining the leaves and dirt around me.

"What?"

Robin stands in front of me, and I lunge forward, grabbing him in my arms. I kiss his forehead and shake both of us.

"Don't do that again, Robin!"

"You need to be quiet, Kaelyn."

Robin pushes me off of him, and I drop my arms to the side, letting them dangle. Robin narrows his eyes and points in the direction behind me.

Why isn't he afraid of being alone?

Robin walks past me, bumping into my shoulder. I frown, feeling hurt by his words and actions. I catch up to him and we walk side-by-side. We walk aimlessly, trying to find an exit out of this area.

"I think I see something," Robin states, veering off into another direction.

I open my mouth to question what he thinks he sees, but he'll probably scold me for talking like he did before. I follow him quietly, unsure of where he is going or what he is trying to find. Robin stops walking for a second, kneels down, and wipes the ground with two of fingers. The ground is all muddy and is covered with leaves, rocks, and other things that could possibly be useful to us, but not at this point in the Games.

In the corner of the room, I see something jutting out of a bush. It looks like a long stick, but I'm sure something has to be attached to the end of it. Hopefully, whatever it is, can be used as a weapon of some sort. I wonder why weapons are spread out randomly, though.

"Robin!" I exclaim. "I think I see something too!"

"One minute," he says, still examining the ground.

I grab Robin's shoulder, and he tilts his head upwards. I point to the corner of the room where the stick-type thing is and his eyes widen. He pounces forward, without even standing up properly, and jogs over to it, stumbling here and there. He kneels down next to the stick and pulls it out of the bush.

_A 'thank you' would suffice._

"A rake?"

"A rake?" I repeat.

"Why would there be a rake in the arena?" Robin asks, talking to himself.

"We can use is a weapon," I say.

Robin nods, "I'll hold the rake, Kaelyn. It's too heavy for you and if we ever had to kill with it…"

I sulk, "You can do the killing."

Robin holds the rake in the air, the metal top of it reflecting the sunlight coming in from the ceiling. It's about the size of Robin, maybe even a little taller, and by the looks of it, it's heavy. It's well-designed; smooth, the top of the rake is sharp, and it definitely suitable for killing.

Where the rake was just lying, there is a small hole in the ground. Without telling me what he's doing, Robin goes into the small hole and places the rake down next to him. I follow him cautiously, not sure what might pop up at me. I walk around to the other side of the hole, still watching Robin carefully. I finally sit down in the hole next to him, and he begins to make some sort of contraption.

"What are you doing?"

Robin looks at me for a quick second, and then continues doing what he is doing. He is wrapping vines and roots around the handle of the rake, and puts a large rock in front of the hole we're in. Above us, trees' branches and foliage are covering us pretty well. No one could see from above us, but they could probably see us if they walk past us.

I repeat, "What are you doing?"

Robin lies the rake down on the rock, balancing it with other rocks and pebbles. He ties the vines and roots down the ground with other vines and roots. The rake is jutting out in front of us, the handle facing us and the top of the rake facing the other way.

"If anyone comes near us while we're sleeping, they rake will pierce them."

I smile, "That's a good idea."

"Mhm," Robin coos, pulling the ropes and vines one last time, making sure that they are tight enough.

Robin rests his head on a bunch of leaves and grass, and closes his eyes. After a few seconds of me staring at him, his eyes open and he makes a disgusted look on his face.

"Go to sleep, Kaelyn."

"Why? The sun's still out."

"We're traveling at night. So, you need rest."

I comply with his demand, and rest my head down on some leaves and grass as well. I get myself comfortable, bringing in my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs.

The camouflage of my outfit is probably hiding me somewhat right now, but it could also be making me look like a ball of mud or something. I see what the Gamemakers are trying to do with the camouflage, which is give tributes a chance to hide out and not get caught, but the colors of it are a tad distracting and would stand-out in some situations.

I just have to make the best with what I have.

I glance at Robin once more, who's sleeping already. I open my mouth to say something to him, but then close it, since he probably won't even respond to me. Even though I feel protected by him, I feel that there isn't much trust or friendship between us. Whenever I speak to him, he tends to ignore me or say something in a rude way. I'm only trying to help, and he doesn't appreciate me. I have no intentions of ditching him, since I need him, and even though he doesn't want to admit it, he needs me.

An alliance between District partners isn't rare, since District partners usually bond with each other much more than with anyone else. I wonder what District Three thinks of this alliance, though, and I wonder if they think that we can do well in the Games or not. For the past few years, the District Three tributes have died in the Bloodbath, and this year, they have survived. That could be because there wasn't that big of a Bloodbath this year, but either way, we have survived.

Maybe, now that we have survived past the Bloodbath, District Three might have high expectations of us. It's still the first day in the arena, though, and who knows what is going to happen to us from this point on. If we die, after getting District Three's hopes up, it'll be even more a let-down than usual. It's odd, though, that they might expect so much from us. They don't truly realize that the Games are challenging and that when you die, that is that. Although I want to win, I don't want to see Robin die. Both of us winning isn't possible, but I wish it was; seeing a friend die is heart-wrenching, and if I saw one of my friends back in District Three die, it'd be even worse than seeing Robin die.

In the Games, there is so much to watch out for. Muttations, tributes, traps, and the list goes on and on. Plus, you have to watch out for yourself and your personal safety, but when you have an alliance, you need to watch out for your allies too. It's much more complex and challenging than everyone thinks.

_We are only two kids from District Three. How much do you expect from us? _

* * *

**Amara Dane  
District Twelve Female, 18 Years Old  
Day One: Night**

* * *

There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who save lives and those who take lives.

Velour, Olivine, and Adam fall into the first category, but then there are people like me; Amara Dane, the guardian of these two innocent children. I need to protect them from people who are determined to take their lives, and to accustom them to people who are determined to save their lives. They may want to take them away from me, but I can't let that happen. I must protect them danger and harm, and conceal from the ugly truth of the Games.

Minx and Quole are my top priorities, and I will protect them until my last breath. I will aid them, give them supplies, defend them, and keep them alive. Although I can't tell them the truth about the Games – the death aspect – I hope that they are somewhat aware of it. I sugarcoat these things, feeding them lies and follies of my own creation. It's all for their safety, though, and I am by no means taking advantage of them.

I realize that Minx and Quole are weak on their own, and without me, would have probably died already. Luckily, nothing major happened during the Bloodbath. To be honest, nothing at all happened, really. Nothing happened that would affect me or my allies, that is. Sure, there were one or two deaths, but I don't have too much concern for those who died or for those who killed.

All I worry about now is protecting Minx and Quole. They need me, and I need them. I've already lost someone in my life, and I can't let that happen again. I will do anything I can to make sure that one of them survives.

Even if that means taking my own life, I will. For Minx. For Quole. For _Layla_.

"Amara?"

I gasp, snapping out my daze, instinctively grabbing the mattock and watering can next to me. I raise them, preparing myself for a fight if necessary, but I stop myself as I realize who is in front of me. Minx's grey eyes stare deeply into my eyes, bespeaking a sense of fear and hopelessness. Minx tears up as she cowards in front of me, and I carelessly drop the mattock and gardening can, which is followed by a loud bang against the ground. Quole, who has been staring upwards at the night sky, flinches for a quick second, but continues to stare at the night sky.

"Yes, Minx?" I ask, speaking in a caring tone, trying to alleviate her fear.

Minx, as she hears the sound of my voice, calms down, letting herself be content once again. She salivates several times, staring at her tongue, becoming cross-eyed. She's obviously thirsty, but I can't provide her with any water at the moment. It kills me to see Minx thirsty and showing discomfort, but I can't do anything to help her as of now. Even if it's something as simple as water, this arena just isn't the place.

_Why?_

That is the only question I have. Why? Why does the Capitol do this? Why are these innocent children involved in the Games?

They're so young, so innocent, and so unsuitable for such circumstances. Does the Capitol honestly think that young children can come out as victor? How could their perception be so wicked?

_Or is that me just being biased? Maybe what the Capitol is doing is the right thing? Evoking fear and regret in the Districts? _

Of course not. What they're doing is the wrong thing, even if it is practical. What the Districts did were wrong, but are the Hunger Games truly the way to get revenge?

No. The Hunger Games are _not _the moral way to get revenge. Raise taxes, raise food-collection, raise the seriousness of laws. Killing children is not the way to prove something. How could it?

In Panem, there will always be killing until the price is paid. And there is nothing that I can do about it, or even the Districts. Rebellions and a rebellious attitude won't do anything; the Capitol is too strong and too influential.

But that doesn't mean I can't try. Try to put a stop to this. Try to prove that what the Capitol is doing is wrong. Try to prove that I, Amara Dane, am one of many.

One day, maybe not in my life time, there will be change. In one way or another, I will have helped the cause. I will have proved that the Games are cruel, the Districts deserve better, and that the people of Panem have a fighting spirit in them.

Suddenly, in the bushes ahead, there are a few rustles and snaps of branches. Quole, who is still behind me staring at the sky, doesn't move and doesn't seem to be paying attention. Minx quickly grabs my arm, begins to whimper, and I put my hand in front of her and move her behind me as well.

From the bushes, the small, dark-skinned boy from District Eleven stumbles out. Although it is extremely dark and the only light is from the moon above, you can see the blood dripping down his head and staining his clothes. His dark brown hair has a tint of red in it, and I presume that it is from a head wound. His wounds look painful and, at this point, look futile.

The boy, Dresden, treads forward, coming right for me and my allies. He moans and groans, rubbing his head, and then looking back at his hand. Blood gurgles in his throat, and there might even be blood seeping out from his eyes and dripping out of his mouth. He walks forward, hands out in front of him, and I scoot backwards, still sitting. I give Minx a gentle push and Minx stumbles backwards, relocating herself next to Quole who is still not paying attention.

I equip myself with the mattock, gripping it tightly, fighting the urge to kill him already. If he comes any closer, then I will have to take action. He is jeopardizing the safety of my allies, and I can't let that happen.

Even though he is still young and innocent, it isn't the same. He's not a girl, obviously, and Layla was. I feel no obligation to protect boys, since a boy had killed Layla in her Games. I cannot kill girls, however, since the girls did nothing to Layla in her Games. It was all the boys' fault that Layla is dead, and I cannot let any more boys kill any more girls.

"Please, help me," Dresden mumbles, the blood that is gurgling in his throat muffling his voice.

I tense up, clenching my fists, gripping the mattock even tighter. In my left hand, I have the watering can gripped tightly, the metal of it digging into my skin. I swing the watering can in front of me, trying to intimidate the boy and trying to scare him off. I'd rather not kill someone in front of my allies; they're too young to witness such a horror.

Dresden continues to walk closer to me, waving his arms out in front of him. He's in pain, I know, but I cannot help him. I'll give him one more chance, and if he doesn't leave, I'll have to figure out something else to do with him. In one last effort, I swing the watering can forcefully, knocking the boy over. He falls backwards, trying to keep his balance, but he doesn't fall down just yet. He stumbles backwards for a good foot or two, and then smashes against the glass wall rather forcefully.

The glass cracks behind him, but none of it falls out or actually breaks. He falls forward, a few pieces of glass shards lodged in his back, but I glance at the wall, which seems to have fixed itself completely already. There are no more cracks in the glass, thanks to the Gamemakers.

Dresden looks up, notices me, and then crawls towards me. I clench my teeth, gritting them, trying to intimidate him again. Still, he crawls towards me, mumbling something that I can't hear. This time, he gathers up enough energy to throw his body forward a little bit, landing only a few inches away from my foot. I stand up now, putting some distance between him and me.

I glance at Minx and Quole, and Minx is cowering in the corner, shoving her face in her hands, and Quole is still staring out the windows above. I am glad that they aren't looking at this, but I need to figure what I should do with this boy. He is still jeopardizing their safety, but I can't let them see that I will probably end up killing this boy.

Dresden tries to angle his head up towards me, but he strains his neck and groans in pain. The blood is still pouring out of his head, covering him in a coat of red. If anything, I pity him. I know why he's here, and I understand that he wants supplies and help, but I can't help him. I have other priorities, and some boy from District Eleven is not one of them.

I grunt, trying to intimidate him one last time. My intimidation is to no avail, seeing as he is still crawling towards me and mumbling things. I raise my right hand, angling the mattock in the air, and from the corner of my eye, I can see in the mattock's metal part the reflection of the moon. I exhale slowly, putting forth all my energy into this attack.

I bring down my arm swiftly, lodging the mattock into the boy's skull. It cracks, and I can hear one last yelp before the boy is officially dead. His head slumps to the side, his ears facing the ground and his eyes staring forward. With my foot, I kick his body over, and assess the death. His dark brown eyes, nearly black, lose their color and they dilate. They roll to the back of his head, and the whites of his eyes are stained with blood.

_I had to do it. It was to maintain the girl's safety, and if I didn't, they would be in danger. And I can't let that happen._

_Boom!_

The cannon sounds, and Quole finally looks at me. The indifferent expression on her face shows that she has no care in the world for this boy, but once she looks at Minx, she blinks several times in a row. Minx begins to sob, rubbing her arms with her hands, showing that she is frightened by the cannon.

Even if this seems like a handful, it's not. I know how to deal with children, and I know what to say to them to make them feel better. Even though my promise to my sister that she would never be reaped was technically a lie, I meant it in a different way. I meant that if I had something to do with her being Reaped, I wouldn't let it happen. When she was reaped, there was nothing I could do except weep and hope for the best.

With these girls, it's different. There's a chance for them; a chance that I must let them achieve. They can actually survive. They can actually return home to their families, rejoicing with them after being gone for a few weeks.

In the arena, there are no second chances. Death is death, and survival is survival.

_But which one will be these girls' fate?_

* * *

_**District Twelve, Caolan Harper – Placed 24**__**th**_

_**District Nine, Noah Miller – Placed 23**__**rd**_

_**District Eleven, Dresden Scott – Placed 22**__**nd**_


	16. Arena: Day Two

**Author's Note:** Well, hello. The poll results are up, and yeah. Here's Day Two!

* * *

**Cove Barley  
District One Male, 16 Years Old  
Day Two: Morning**

* * *

The sound of a high-pitched shriek startles me, disrupting my sleep and causing me to shoot upwards. The leaves and vines that were covering me for warmth simply roll of me or dangle from my legs, and I brush all it off with one swipe of my arms. In front of me, flailing her arms and kicking her feet, Olivine is pointing at something and shrieking loudly. You can hear Velour's muffled groans from her being awaken, and out of all of us, Nero is the only one who has the nerve – or care in the world – to walk over towards Olivine and figure out what is happening to her.

"Olivine, is everything okay?" Nero inquires, rubbing his eyes from the bright sun above.

"What do you think?" Olivine shrieks, covering her mouth with her hands once she finishes her question.

Nero stays quiet, a perplexed look on his face, probably debating whether to ask any more questions. Just by asking that one, Olivine will be all over him now, complaining and whining even more than usual.

It's not that I don't like Olivine, per say, but she isn't my cup of tea, if you will. She complains a lot, is too boisterous at times, and is an outright attention-seeker. It's always about her, and if it's not, she'll make it her goal to make it about her. Some people are born like that and some people grow up and become people like this, but with Olivine, I'm not sure which option is accurate for her. I wouldn't ask either, since if you talk to her once, you're her new 'best-friend,' always following you around and asking questions.

Olivine is still an ally, though, and that means something to me. Not that I would betray her, but if it came down to it, maybe I would. I'd prefer to not think about stuff like that, though. Well, not yet, anyway, seeing as it's only day two in the arena.

"Do you know what time it is?" Velour sits up, an agitated look on her face.

Olivine rolls her eyes, "Do you?"

"It's too early for your bullshit, Olivine," Velour retorts, pointing a finger at Olivine.

Everyone goes quiet, forgetting about Olivine's earlier outburst. Velour lies back down, Nero leans up against the stone structure, and Adam and Mariel were on guard, but they heard something earlier, and went to see what it was. They haven't been back for a while, but there hasn't been a cannon, so no one has died just yet.

Olivine lets out an exaggerated sigh, waving herself with her hands. She skims her finger along the water in the stone structure, poking the whicker Cornucopia with her other hand. Under her arm, she is holding the book firmly, keeping it all to herself. No one else has seen what's inside except for Velour, but we know that it's a book about plants and fruits of some sorts. It's survival skills, but I don't know how useful it is.

At this moment, survival skills are the least important thing on our minds. None of us have weapons, and even though we have been able to scavenge for edible food, it isn't that much. There have only been three kills so far – Caolan, the District Twelve male, Noah, the District Nine male, and Dresden, the District Eleven male – but we didn't kill any of them with weapons. Well, the only person who had a kill so far is Olivine, and she did it with her hands. Finding weapons is the most important thing, for the sole reason of killing. Killing is much easier with a weapon, and if there are no weapons, that defeats the purpose.

Everyone ignores Olivine this time, not giving her any attention or satisfaction that she wants. Velour stands up, brushes the dirt off of her outfit, and holds out her hand to help Nero up. As Nero gets up, Velour whispers something into his ear, but I can only see her mouth move without understanding anything.

I'm not saying I want Velour all to myself, but I thought we had something. Maybe we do, maybe we don't, but either way, I still trust her. Not in a friendship way, but in ally sort of way. I don't think Nero and Velour have this whole intricate plan to sabotage the Careers, but they probably have some inner-pact between each other. Even Adam and Mariel have something between them, but they are both quiet for the most part, so I don't know with them. Olivine has no one, and then there's me, just jumping from person-to-person.

Suddenly, the group hears a few footsteps, and we all are alerted, bracing ourselves for whatever is to come. The footsteps are rapid and with each step there is a loud thud against the ground. They're running, obviously, and quickly. After a few seconds of us hearing these footsteps, cautiously awaiting whoever it is, two figures come into view.

Adam and Mariel, and they come bearing gifts.

Once they are in the same room as us, I notice that they are panting, exasperated, and their faces are bright red. They drop a few items, a loud clang of metal echoing throughout the room. When I look closer, I notice that they are weapons of some sort, but not normal weapons.

There are shovels, rakes, scythes, sickles, but nothing like the weapons back in District One. These are all gardening tools and tools used for vegetation.

Nero and Velour are the first people to the pile of 'weapons,' and Olivine soon follows. I follow them hesitantly, still looking at the condition of Adam and Mariel.

"How did you get these?" Olivine shrieks, her mouth gaping.

"It wasn't easy," Adam mumbles. "Mutts. A lot of them."

"Are you hurt?" I ask, genuinely curious about their health.

"No, no, we're fine," Mariel says, looking at Adam and then herself.

Adam reaches down and grabs the first rake he sees. It seems a little selfish, if you ask me, since he didn't even ask what anyone else wanted. But, he did get all of these weapons for us, so he does deserve first-pick. He takes off the bent tips of the rake, making the top part of it sharp instead of smooth. He sits down, grabs a rock, and starts to sharpen the tips now, making them sharper.

Velour grabs a garden hose, wraps it around her body, the hose going up from her hip to her shoulder diagonally. She also slips a pair of shears into her pocket, patting them down with her hand. Olivine and Mariel both grab a small handheld shovel. Nero and I are the last ones to choose, and Nero picks a shovel. On the bottom of the pile, there is a small knife, but it's not a normal knife. I pick it up, examine it, and notice a bunch of little markings on it, and it says 'inches' on one side. I look more closely, and on the handle, the words 'Hori Hori' are carved into it. I think that words are telling me what the knife is called.

After everyone has picked a weapon or two, we all help out take the extra ones and bring them back to the stone structure in the center of the room. We hide the better weapons under the bushes, concealing them, and the lesser weapons wherever we can find a spot.

"Well, now that we're actually equipped with weapons, it's time for hunting. Any preference for hunting partners?"

Velour puts her hand on her hip, waiting for a response, and she is probably thinking the same thing that we are all thinking: Not Olivine.

Adam and Mariel will obviously go together, but I know about anything else. We're all allies here, but Nero is probably the most protective and is the person I would prefer going with just because he is the strongest, and then there's Olivine and Velour. Velour is alright, and I wouldn't mind going with her either, but Olivine, well, I'd rather be caught dead than go with her.

Nero wraps his arm around me, and rubs his hand forcefully through my hair. "I'll take Cove."

"I'll take you, Nero, is more like it. Now, thank me for letting you follow me around while I go hunting," I banter, both of us erupting into laughter.

"Ugh, I have to go with her?" Olivine pouts, staring at Velour.

Velour stares at the ceiling, the infuriation in her eyes obvious. She shakes her head and starts walking towards one of the doors, Olivine reluctantly following while still pouting and mumbling things to herself. Adam and Mariel also take off into one of the doors, and there are two doors left. We pick the first one we see, the one opposite of the door Velour and Olivine went into, and we walk off towards it.

No one is watching the supplies, and to be honest, I don't think it will be a big deal. I'm sure people are also having their own problems in an arena like this, with no food, water, or weapons. Besides, it's only day two, who would challenge the Careers this early on?

I grip the knife in my hand, the adrenaline pumping through my body. It's time like this that I enjoy; not so much the kill, but the adventure and enjoyment. No one in the Careers has been through this door yet, since the other three doors in the main room have already been visited. The door is still shut to do this new entrance, and Nero kicks it open with one thrust of his leg.

In this room, the sun is shining a lot brighter, and it is a lot warmer. Humid, even, and definitely damp. In the corner there is a small swamp, but the water is probably poisonous, so I wouldn't dare drink it. On the ground, there are only weeds and dead vegetation, nothing living or prospering.

"We can go back, if you want, since I'm sure no tribute would stay in here for long."

Nero shakes his head, "You never know. Maybe they are thinking the same thing as you, so they are trying to be clever and hide out in a room that no one else would go in."

"Don't go all District Three on me, Nero. I wasn't aware that you were so clever," I say, gently punching him in the shoulder.

We continue walking through the damp room, our boots getting stuck in the weeds and mud on the ground. I wipe my face, the stickiness of it feeling dirty and gruesome. We approach a wall, but there is a gaping hole in the center of it. Vines and leaves are wrapped in front of it, blocking us from entering it. Nero steps back and lifts his shovel up in the air, and begins to rip and tear at the vines.

Once the hole is open, there is a low buzzing sound that becomes gradually louder. Nero and I look at each other, confused, and take a few steps back. Suddenly, the buzzing sound gets extremely loud and whatever is making that noise begins to pour out of the hole. Nero drops to the floor, pulling me down with him. I wrap my arms around my head, trying to block my head form being bitten or anything, and then peak up once the buzzing sound is gone. We stand up, trying to see if any of the bugs were left behind, but they are all gone.

We walk forward, glancing behind us after every few steps, making sure that the bugs are really gone this time. The tunnel that we are now in seems to be underground, the ground dropping further down every few feet. It's dark, but there is still some light, and I can't see anything too clearly, except for Nero's figure. I'm not sure where the light is coming from, but it's the Gamemakers we're talking about, so I am not too surprised.

"You just had to pick this room, didn't you?" I banter, sticking out my tongue.

Before Nero can speak, another sound comes into play, and this time, it is muffled groans. Nero begins to walk faster, and I follow him, gripping my knife tighter in my hand. Those are definitely human noises, but I don't know whether it is female or male.

In front of us, a figure is hunched over, who is still groaning and has something dripping out of his mouth. It smells like some type of fruit, but I don't think much of it since we are in a tunnel and now is not the time to eat. I look at Nero, who waves me forward, and I talk the lead. Nero walks behind me, his shovel already above his head. We get closer to the figure, and the figure's head snaps up. I can tell it is a male now, and it is definitely a human. His head snaps up, and in a quick second, sprints towards us. I back up, bumping into Nero's body. The boy sprints at me even faster, and once he gets closer, I notice an '8' on one of his shoulders.

I grip the knife in my hand, about to throw it, and then the boy changes his direction. He still sprints at me, but he zigzags back and forth, and I can't aim at him correctly. The smell of fruit intensifies as the boy gets closer, and from where I'm standing, you can see something smudged on his face. I narrow my eyes, squinting, trying to aim at this boy. He gets closer and closer, and once he is a few footsteps ahead of me, I raise my arm.

With full force, I bring my arm down, releasing the knife. It glides through the air, and before the boy can dodge it, it lodges itself in his neck. The boy's body collapses to the ground, the knife being pushed out of his neck by the ground. Nero and I walk over cautiously, still wary of this boy and what he could do. I quickly yank the knife out of his knife and wipe the blood on his own clothes.

His face is deformed, his eyes are bloodshot and his lips are a dark purple color. Nero kicks him gently with his foot, and the boy's body slumps to the side.

_Boom!_

The cannon erupts, causing Nero and I to flinch. We turn back around and star to walk back through the tunnel, retracing our footsteps. The walk back is silent, probably because neither of us knows what to say or what to think about what we just saw.

How could something like that happen? The boy's face? His eyes and lips?

What really is this arena's secret?

* * *

**Velour Versailles  
District One Female, 18 Years Old  
Day Two: Afternoon**

* * *

"Velour, let me tell you: I was so popular back in District Two. And when I say popular, I mean popular."

_Shut up, Olivine._

"I was basically famous, to be honest. I'm sure even the mayor knew who I was."

_Shut up, Olivine._

"The boys liked me a lot because I was so popular. They would basically give me their souls just for a kiss on the cheek."

_Shut up, Olivine._

"You probably had a nice life, being the mayor's daughter, but my life is definitely a lot better than yours."

_Shut up, Olivine._

"And now look where I am; standing in an arena, the taste of victory on the tip of my tongue."

"I do not care, Olivine, about your life or your feelings," I deadpan, the contempt obvious in my voice.

"That's rude, Velour. Now, keep quiet, I'm talking."

Trust me, and this is no exaggeration, she has been babbling for the past hour. Maybe it's something in the air that is making her even more annoying than usual, but either way, she has got to stop. It's not even about her time in the Capitol or the arena; it's about her life in District Two. I don't know why her mind-frame is still stuck in District Two, but if she hasn't noticed, we aren't there anymore; we are in the arena.

I gasp, desperately trying to catch her attention and to shut her up. She seems startled, stops where she is, and yelps. I point to a bush in the corner, one with berries and leaves on it, and next to it there is a water fountain of some sort. The water is coming out of the ground, and it's shooting upwards.

"Olivine! Look," I squeal in excitement, "Food!"

Olivine takes the book out from under her arm and walks over towards the bush and the water. She opens the book, flips through a few pages, and points to a section in the book. I glance over her shoulder, and it is a picture of the same berries that are on the bush. The water is self-explanatory, really, since everyone should know whether it's poisonous or not.

But silly Olivine doesn't. She knows nothing regarding survival skills.

And this is where my plan kicks in. Getting rid of her, that is. It's a short-lived and a spur-of-the-moment type of plan, but it'll work.

That book is all incorrect. Every single page of it, every single word of it, and every single picture of it is wrong; wrong as in, inaccurate and misleading. It tells you one thing is poisonous, when it is really edible, and when something is edible, it is poisonous; they tell you the opposite of everything. I know survival skills, unlike most of my allies. I won't use this against anyone else, probably, but Olivine is a special case; she deserves this. She boasts about her skills, but everyone knows she's just being arrogant and big-headed.

The look on her face as the poison kicks in will be priceless.

Olivine picks a few berries, places them down on a rock, and then scoops up some water in her hands. She skims the water with her tongue gently, and moans in delight.

_Tell me again how smart you are, Olivine? I'd love to hear it this time. _

She lets the water dribble out of her hands, her hands turning a light pink color immediately. She doesn't notice this, though, but I do. She scoops up some of the maroon-colored berries in her hand, and plops them all into her mouth at once. I attentively watch her chew, a sadistic grin forming on my face. After she's done chewing, you can see a rash forming on the skin outside of her throat as the berries go down her throat. She guzzles down some water too, and as soon as the water goes down her throat, her body starts to spaz.

Olivine flails her arms and legs, her body slumping to the side. Her whole body begins to get a rash and turns a pink color. Her eyes become bloodshot and her lips turn purple. She moans quietly, her body still twitching. It gets worse and worse, her arms and legs slamming against anything in her way. She begins to bleed out from the pores all over her body, some blisters and random bumps on her skin forming as well.

Olivine opens her mouth to speak, and once I get a good look of it, I notice what's inside. It's all darkened, and her tongue and gums are a dark shade of black. She tries to grab at her throat, but she can't even manage to bring her arms up to her throat because they keep twitching and flailing. I back up a few steps, letting her have some more space, trying not to get hit by Olivine.

_Who's pretty now, Olivine? Not you. And it's all because of me. _

I smirk even wider at the sight of her body, almost smiling from satisfaction. I'm glad she's dying, really. Her time was up and she served no purpose. Once I'm done with her, I'll move on to my next victim.

Who will it be? That's for me to figure out.

Like I said, Olivine was a special case. I planned out a death for her because she was, well, _her_. The prissy, attention-seeking volunteer from District Two. I am baffled by how she really thought she could survive this.

Olivine's body calms a little bit, not twitching and flailing as much as before, and I kneel down beside her. She looks up to me, her eyes being a full-out pink color now, and her jaw hangs open. I rest her head on my leg, playing with her luscious auburn hair.

"You're wasted beauty, Olivine. Someone like you doesn't deserve this."

As I say her name, she moans a little bit and tries to raise her arm. I push her arm down, bend it awkwardly for her, and place it underneath her body. I do the same with her other arm, not allowing her to touch me or move at all anymore.

From the corner of my eye, I see the glint of a gemstone and it draws my attention. I grasp it in between two of my fingers, examining it thoroughly. It's a dainty amethyst, and it's very fine.

"Aw, is this your token, Olivine?"

I wait for a response, but I know she can't. Her mouth dangles to the side of her body, and you can hear that her breathing is slowing down and that she is almost dead. I might as well enjoy these last few minutes with my _ally_, Olivine.

I pout, "Once again, this is something you don't deserve."

Olivine's body twitches one last time, much more quickly and much more forcefully than any other time, and the moans and muffled breaths from her cease. After a few more seconds, her body finally stops breathing, and is motionless.

_Boom!_

I can almost perceive it now; the cheers from some in District Two, and the shock-horror of others after witnessing such betrayal between allies of the Career alliance.

But they're wrong. I did this alliance a favor. I'm getting rid of the members early on, so I don't have to worry about others as much once the numbers dwindle down.

I stare at Olivine's dead body, the reality of her death kicking in. I laugh quietly, it gradually getting louder and hoarser.

_I killed her. I, Velour Versailles, killed Olivine Keenan of District Two._

I pull the shears out of my pocket, my handles trembling as I bring it close to Olivine's body. Before I do anything, I drop the amethyst on her face, letting it roll down into her mouth.

Raising Olivine's hand in the air, I notice her filed and neat nails. "These are nice, Olivine. How did you ever get them to look like this?"

With a quick pull, I yank the nail off of Olivine's finger and hold it in the air. Suddenly, I hear voices, and I panic. I rip out a single strand of Olivine's hair and stuff the hair and nail deep in my pocket, and try to hide her hand. I cover it with leaves and whatever else I can find, and then I lean my body up against the wall on the other side of the room.

"Cove! Nero! Adam! Mariel!" I exclaim, sounding desperate and frightened. "Please!"

The rushing footsteps get closer and closer, and Cove comes into view eventually. Nero, Adam, and Mariel follow him, and once they see Olivine in the corner, they all stop in their tracks.

"What…" Nero trails off, pointing at Olivine's body.

"Nero, Nero!" I shout, trying my best to sound as flustered and panicky as possible. "Someone came and… and attacked her!"

"Who was it?" Adam asks, choking on his own words.

I try to think of the first tribute in the Games that would be a competitor. The names repeat in my head, and with a hasty decision, I choose Amara, from District Twelve.

"Amara," I whisper, purposely saying it soft enough that they can't hear.

"Who?"

"Amara," I say broadly.

Nero snaps his towards me, narrowing his eyes. "Amara? The girl from District Twelve?"

"Yes," I whisper. "She came along with those two little girls and caught Olivine and I off-guard."

"And then what happened?"

I take a deep breath, and force myself to form tears in the corner of my eyes. "I ran away, thinking Olivine was coming, and then I saw her pin Olivine down and force food down her throat."

Cove, Nero, Adam, and Mariel all look at each other without saying anything. Cove helps me stand up to my feet, and Adam and Mariel begin to walk back towards the main room. Before leaving, Nero grabs the book that Olivine had and shakes his head, probably thinking of stuff to say or what to do in this situation.

Unfortunately, they don't know what to do. But I do; I know how to act, I know what to say, I know what to do.

If lying is the only way to cover myself up, then I will lie. I don't mind blaming it on the District Twelve female, anyway, since I want her dead.

Perhaps she'll be my next victim, perhaps she won't.

It's up to me and what I want.

And I _always_ get what I want.

* * *

**Harley Astaire  
District Six Male, 16 Years Old  
Day Two: Night**

* * *

"Ivonette, do you know what you're doing?"

Ivonette dangles down from the tree, her legs wrapped around the tree branch. Her hair is hanging downwards, covering her face, and she pushes it to the side.

"Of course," she says crisply, "Why would you ever doubt me?"

I nod, replying silently, and shrug my shoulders. She's been up to the something for the whole day, and really, I'm not sure what she's trying to do. I'm not much help, with my migraines and flu-symptoms, but I did offer, however, and she just rejected me. Not that I care much, anyway; she can do all the work, and I can just sit here and save my energy.

Ivonette hops down from the tree, a bunch of berries and dirt in her hands, and sits down. She places the things she is holding out in front of her, divvying them up between us. She places a few berries, leaves, and handfuls of dirt in front of me and pushes them closer.

"What are you going to do with this?"

"Take a wild guess, Harley," Ivonette retorts, beginning to squish the berries and mix them together with the leaves.

Before I can answer, she begins to rub the berries, leaves, and dirt onto her body. She covers her face with the dirt mostly, with a few splashes of berry here and there. I must admit that what she is doing is clever, even if it's unsanitary and odd. She's covering up her skin, which is full-out white, trying to make herself very camouflage-like. It matches her outfit too, so that will help her even more. Her eyes look hollow now, except for her distinct eye-color and pupils glaring at me.

"That's dirty, don't you think?"

Ivonette chuckles, continuing to rub the dirt on her skin. "It's either that, or I die."

I take a few steps back, peering out the windows above us. It's nice outside, the moon gleaming down on the arena and the sky full of stars of different shapes and colors. The moon is lighting up the room we're in a little, but not majorly, and we can't see everything. I guess that's a good thing, though, since we haven't been caught yet and we haven't interacted with any other tributes just yet.

I don't want to jinx our chances, though, since it is only day two in the arena. Anything can happen, really.

Ivonette stands back up, her skin camouflaged now. You can still see some of her white skin, but rarely any. Her snow-white hair is also covered up by dirt and whatnot, and she barely looks like the same person. Once she smiles, though, I can still see Ivonette in her face. You can always tell it's Ivonette by her toothy grin.

She walks right past me, her shoulder brushing against mine. I cringe a little, waiting for some sort of pain to arise, but nothing happens. She's lucky, since if she hurt me, I would not be a happy-camper. She walks through the trees, dodging trees and branches and swaying back and forth, trying to prevent anything rubbing against her.

"Where are we going?" I ask, following her slowly.

"We're going to pay the Careers a little visit," she says, looking back at me over her shoulder. "You can stay here, if you want."

I catch up to her quickly, making sure I am right next to her. "They'll kill us if they see us."

"No, really?" Ivonette spits sarcastically. "But I can assure you that they're not there."

"How would you know?"

"Those two cannons earlier today were probably because of them, and the adrenaline rushing through them is probably making them want to hunt even more."

I nod, understanding what she just said. She has a good point; if they killed, they probably want to kill more. It's all a game to them, and they will do whatever it takes to play by the rules.

"Don't you think there would be a guard or something?"

Ivonette lets out a muffled laugh, looking back at me one more time. "I wouldn't be surprised if they left Mariel to protect their campsite."

I contemplate keeping the conversation going or not, and ultimately decide not to. It's not worth it; if I say something, Ivonette will probably laugh and make a sarcastic remark. Even a genuine question that I'm curious about, she'll still find some way to make me look like a fool.

It's not that I don't like Ivonette or anything, but she can get on my nerves. She's in a little over-her-head, but then she confuses me by being humble in the matter of minutes. I wish I could read her mind, and then I could figure out Ivonette. She's complex, is one way to put it.

We approach a door that is closed, and Ivonette tries to pry it open. The door handle is rusty and vines are all overgrown in the area, scaling the door and the wall. She grabs ahold of the door, pulling even harder this time, and grunts with every sudden movement.

"You can, you know, help me," she says, pulling at the door even more.

I stand next to her, grabbing ahold of the door handles as well. I pull several times, and it only moves a little. From the corner of my eye, I can see Ivonette sweating a little bit, and the moon reflects off of it, showing her pale skin. One last time, we both pull in unison, and the door swings open, the vines tearing off the door.

Without speaking, we move forward, continuing walking. I don't even know if Ivonette knows where she is going, but I won't doubt her. We make a quick turn down a hallway that is all made of glass. You can't see anything outside, and I tap my finger against the glass to see if anything happens. Nothing happens, not even a fingerprint on the glass. You can see the moon, though, and the stars. It all looks so nice and peaceful, but then I remember where we are.

"We're almost there," Ivonette says, walking very cautiously against the wall.

I follow in her footsteps, walking close to the wall as well. Here, someone might see us, seeing as the walls are all glass. The hallway is short, though, and we enter the next room. This room is even darker than the last one, except for the light at the end of the room. Ivonette walks a little faster now, and I have trouble catching up to her because I don't know where I'm going.

I could trip on something, and break a leg, or a branch might scratch my eye, blinding me. I already have enough problems as it is, so I don't need anymore.

Ivonette comes to a quick halt, and I know because I bump into her. She grunts a little, obviously not too happy that I just bumped into her. She hides behind the wall, her head peeking around it, looking into the main room. I look into the other room as well, and I remember the room. It's the room that the Games began in, and in the center, there is the small pond-type thing. Someone else is there too, pacing around the structure with the water in it and looking towards the sky.

It's Mariel. Nothing good will come out of this.

Ivonette tip-toes forward, crouching down as soon as she enters the large room. Mariel is looking the other way, and Ivonette creeps up on her very slowly. I stand there, not sure if I should follow Ivonette or not. Mariel has a weapon, though, and Ivonette doesn't. Mariel is holding a hand-held shovel, which could count as a weapon, but very loosely. In front of her, it looks like there are other types of weapons as well.

The whicker Cornucopia that was hanging from the ceiling by vines is now on the floor, the book that was in it gone. They have put some food in that Cornucopia, but nothing special; some types of fruit and vegetables. The Careers really have been productive in the arena so far, while Ivonette and I have only rubbed some dirt on our faces and climbed some trees.

Ivonette is now at the stone structure in the center, and she gets down on her knees and hides behind it. Mariel can't see over it and can't see Ivonette, since the structure isn't too short, but it isn't too high. Ivonette creeps around the other side, and just as Ivonette is about to pounce at Mariel, they all stop in their spots.

Mariel and Ivonette freeze, looking around to see what it was, and I'm not sure what they're looking at either. Ivonette shoots me a glare, and then I look down. Without realizing it, it was me. I have picking my nails and biting them, not paying too much attention, and I guess I have been gradually getting louder. I drop down to the ground, trying not to let Mariel spot me.

Mariel grips her shovel with both of her hands, still not looking to tough or strong. She's too lean and docile to be intimidating. With a swift movement, before Mariel can realize it, Ivonette leaps forward, grabbing a pair of shears off of the ground. Just as Ivonette lands on her feet, Mariel turns around. Once Mariel and Ivonette make eye-contact, Mariel drops her shovel. They stare at each other for a while, until Ivonette moves forward a small step.

"Please!" Mariel exclaims, sounding scared. "I won't kill you! Take what you want! I won't tell the others either!"

Ivonette looks back at me, and shakes her head. Ivonette takes one more step, and this time, Mariel tenses up. She grabs the shovel off of the ground, and promptly swings it in front of her. It grazes Ivonette's arm, and Ivonette doesn't take that too well. She jolts forward, tackling Mariel down to the ground.

Mariel puts up a fight, though, and they begin to claw at each other's faces. After a minute or so, Mariel pushes Ivonette off of her, and lets out a high-pitched scream. Ivonette panics, covering Mariel's mouth with her hand. That'll probably attract her allies, and they'll come to see what it was.

Ivonette begins to look flustered, not sure what she's supposed to do. Mariel lets out another scream, and this time, Ivonette slaps her across the face. I walk forward, becoming more and more interested in their fight. I don't want to help or anything because I know Ivonette would yell at me for doing it. This is her time to be productive, not mine.

Just as Mariel is about to scream again, Ivonette plunges the sheers into her stomach. Mariel stops, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and she begins to gag a little. Ivonette steps off of her, and hovers above her. She looks at me one more time, her face being expressionless.

Ivonette backs away, grabbing a few pieces of food and weapons on her way, and comes back to me. Mariel is still lying there, the sheers in her stomach and blood pouring out of her. I begin to walk away, but notice that Ivonette is still standing there, not saying or moving much. She drops the food and weapons to her side, beginning to walk back towards Mariel.

Ivonette makes her way back to Mariel and kneels down beside her. What is she doing? She places her head next to Mariel's ear, and begins to whisper something, but I can't hear. Mariel begins to cry, the moon's rays reflecting off of her teardrops. Ivonette places her hand on Mariel's face, closing her eyelids, and then folds Mariel's arms over her chest.

After a few more minutes of Ivonette just sitting next to Mariel, her cannon sounds. The cannon rings through the room, causing Ivonette to flinch a little. After the cannon is silenced, Ivonette stands back up and quickly walks back towards me. I pick up the stuff on the ground, give some to her, and she continues walking without talking.

"Ivonette?"

"What, Harley?"

"Are you okay?"

Ivonette ignores my question, asking me something else. "Are you afraid of dying, Harley?"

"Well, I guess so, but isn't everyone? What about you, Ivonette?"

"In a way, I am. I'm just scared that world will move forward without me, my absence going unnoticed."

I open my mouth to reply, but she continues talking, an angered and passionate tone in her voice becoming more and more distinct.

"Is that selfish? Am I such a bad person for dreaming of a world that ends when I do? I don't mean the world ending with respect to me, but every set of eyes closing with mine."

Ivonette lets out a sigh, one that makes the rest of the room go silent, and looks at me. She stares at me into the eyes, and for once, she's serious. She's not joking around or being sarcastic. This is a side to Ivonette I haven't seen before.

"I wanted to see everything, Harley. I want to go everywhere, to every District. I wanted to see if there was another world beyond Panem."

"You'll have that opportunity, Ivonette. I promise."

"How? What are the chances of us actually winning?"

"I'll make sure of it, Ivonette. I'll make sure that you get to do the things that you want to do. I promise."

_But what if I can't keep that promise? What if I fail? What if… I die?_

* * *

_**District Eight, Emmett Twill – Placed 21**__**st**_

_**District Two, Olivine Keenan – Placed 20**__**th**_

_**District Four, Mariel Seavey – Placed 19**__**th**_


	17. Arena: Day Three

w w w. fromthegrounduphg. blogspot. c o m

* * *

**Minx Hyede  
District Five Female, 13 Years Old  
Day Three: Morning**

* * *

I still remember District Five.

I still remember all of the factories, apartment buildings and run-down towns, and the power-plants. The power-plants were some of my favorite things; they used to emit bright colors into the sky, sometimes even looking like fireworks. In a way, I miss District Five, but I don't know. It wasn't what I really wanted, but it was home.

_Home._

Home is where my parents are. Well, only one of my parents, my father. My mother died three years ago, and I still remember that exact day. She used to baby me and she made me feel special. I never had to do anything for myself and I always felt protected by her. After her death, my family was devastated for months, but then we were able to pick ourselves up. I try to bury the thoughts in the back of my mind, but it isn't easy. She's my _mother_, not some childhood friend or some pet.

Luckily, my father is still alive and so is my brother. My father is a teacher in District Five, and there aren't a lot of them, by the way, since the education is very restricted and tightly controlled. My brother, Keynan, likes to learn a lot. So do I, but Keynan was much more focused and exceptional. Keynan is very loud and outgoing, much like my father, and we were very close. During the reapings, he helped me go to the stage, but I didn't want to go.

Who would want to be reaped? Who wants to be taken away from their family?

I'm not saying my family was perfect or anything, but it was family. We were never too poor, seeing as we did have enough to eat, but we couldn't afford anything extra for ourselves beyond our necessities. I don't care about that stuff, though; I just cared about my family. Then my mother died, and then it was just me, my father, and my brother. It wasn't the same, if that makes sense.

To this day, I still miss my mother's gentle voice. I miss her giggle and the way she would hug me.

But, that's just a part of growing up, right? _Change_?

"Minx?"

As I hear my name being called, I turn around, and Amara and Quole are both standing in front of me. They are holding whatever supplies we had collected, looking as if we are getting ready to move or go somewhere else. Quole hands me a few berries, and I eat them quickly, looking almost like an animal as I scarf them down.

"Yes?" I ask, wiping my mouth with my hand.

"We can't stay here," Amara says, her voice dull and emotionless.

Without asking any questions, I get up and tread after Amara. Quole is quiet as ever, not even looking at anything but the glass-ceiling above. The sun is shining down on us, the sun making me feel warm and comfortable. Amara rolls her shoulders once in a while, glancing back at us from over her shoulder.

Without her, Quole or I might not even be alive. She protects us, making sure that we are not in danger and that if anything gets in our way she will get rid of it. Like that boy from District Eleven, Dresden. He wasn't scary or anything, but Amara didn't want him near us. I didn't question that either, since I didn't want Amara to get mad. She has patience with us, but at times, you can tell she gets agitated with us. I'm not saying Quole or I are complete weaklings, but we aren't the toughest or smartest tributes here. We're young, too, while Amara is eighteen, so there is definitely an age gap.

I'm glad I have her, though. She reminds me of my mother in a way. I might even win if Amara stays by my side the whole time.

"Where are we going?" I ask, pushing my hair out my face.

"You'll see soon, Minx."

I stay quiet after that, not sure what else there is to say. I tend to leave Amara alone, even if I am usually in the mood to talk. Quole doesn't talk much either, so I'm on my own. I even talk to myself at times, but it's awkward when no one really replies.

We approach a glass door, and on the opposite side of the door, there are colorful plants, bushes, and a bunch of fruits and vegetables. Amara shakes the door handles, attempting to open the door. It doesn't open, though, and you can tell she is getting infuriated. She slams her fist against the handle a few times, trying to do anything she can do to open these doors. Amara stops for a minute, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Just as Amara is about to continue trying to open the door, Quole raises her arm, pointing with her pointer-finger at something in the room. It takes me a while to locate what she is pointing at, but then I see what she is pointing at – _Sinter_. I step forward, my face being put up against the glass, watching Sinter carefully.

The room on the opposite side of the door on our side is circular, and there are only two ways into it. There is only the door on my side and a door on Sinter's side. As Sinter steps through the door on his side and walks forward a few steps, his doors slam shut. He flinches at the sound of the doors slamming shut, and begins to back up, but he bangs into the doors. The doors are tightly shut, and even though Sinter is pulling at them forcefully, nothing is happening.

But, something else is starting to happen. The bushes, plants, and other things in the room are beginning to disappear. I can barely understand what is going on, but they are just disappearing. One by one, all of the foliage disappear, eventually making the room be empty except for the dirt on the ground. Everything must have been a hologram. Sinter is still in the room, and he is standing there, staring at the ground as it becomes bare. Sinter walks forward, swiping his arm out in front of him with every step. He hasn't notice that Amara, Quole, and I are all watching him, and I'm glad. If he has seen that we are here, he might want us to help him.

But I know Amara won't help him. As much as I want to, I can't either.

Suddenly, the room in front of us begins to get brighter. Only in that room, though, since the sun where we are isn't too bright. Sinter looks upwards, covering his face with his arm, trying to block his eyes from the sun's rays. The sun in his room continues to brighten, the heat waves becoming visible in that room. In only the matter of seconds, he is barely visible, the sun's rays engulfing him. It is very bright, and even Amara is having trouble keeping her eyes open. Quole is watching attentively, her face expressionless.

_What is happening? _

Sinter falls to his knees, his face going in between his legs. He covers his head with his arms, and you can tell he is overheating. He begins to rip the clothes he has on off, throwing the pieces of fabric aimlessly. The sun continues to get brighter and more and more heat waves are now visible, and just from looking at this sight, I feel hot.

How could this be happening in only that room? The Gamemakers, no doubt.

On Sinter's arm, blisters begin to form and his skin begins to bubble over. It looks as if he is wrinkling, and I didn't even know any of this could happen just from the sun. Sinter falls backward, his face getting exposed to the sun radiation now. His face quickly becomes blistered and sun-burnt, and you can hear muffled moans coming from him. The moans become muffled, and eventually become silenced. The sun is at its brightest peak now, and I can't even see him anymore. I close my eyes, the sun's rays finally getting to me.

I grab Amara's arm, throwing my face into her side, trying to hide my face from the sun. Even though my eyes are still closed, there is a red tint over my eyelids, meaning that the sun is still shining bright. After a while, the red tint begins to lessen, and I open my eyes slowly. My eyes shoot directly to Sinter's body, and then my heart drops.

_No, not Sinter. Not my own District partner. He can't be dying. He can't!_

Sinter's body is laying on the ground, slumped over, his legs and arms sprawled out. His eyes are hollow and his mouth is agape. His skin is blistered, much worse than before, and is extremely red. A light red, and that must mean it's sun-burn, but it is the worst sun-burn I have ever seen. His whole camouflage outfit is torn apart, only a few pieces of fabric still on his body. He tries to move his arm, but he flinches too move and you can see the pain in his face.

"Isn't there something we can do?" I shout, choking on my own words.

Amara remains quiet, as well as Quole, and neither of them looks at me. I look back at Sinter, who is still on the ground, his body looking worse and worse. He looks weak now, his chest not raising and contracting as much as before. He's not breathing that much anymore, and you can still see the pain that he is going through. His eyes finally close, and his chest finally stops, and that's when I realize it.

_Boom!_

Sinter's dead. My own District partner is dead. And I did _nothing_ to help him.

Amara didn't even do anything. Isn't she supposed to be protecting me? Making me happy?

But why didn't she save him? That would make me happy. Not food or warmth, stuff I don't need.

I needed Sinter. I needed something that reminds me of District Five, and now the only thing that did is gone.

_Why is nothing turning out the way I want it to? Why can't I just go home?_

* * *

**Nero Recknor  
District Two Male, 17 Years Old  
Day Three: Afternoon**

* * *

_Four._

That is all that is left of this alliance. Four out of the initial six. And I'm not even sure who killed who, really. Sure, I have my predictions, but who knows; anything's possible. Besides, does it matter who killed who? They all need to die eventually, don't they?

It's just less competition for me. Every time someone dies, even if it's my ally, I'm that much closer to victory.

First, it was Olivine. Then, it was Mariel. They both died on the same day too, and that makes it that much weirder and confusing. Why were they so reckless? How could they die only on day two?

Where they not trained? Disciplined? Educated? Foolishness is all it is.

Olivine was a nice District partner and all, but she wasn't cut out for the title of victor. She was too vain and hyperactive to even get close to victory. Supposedly, Amara killed her, but I don't know. I don't know how true or plausible that is. Velour looked traumatized and scared, but that doesn't convince me. I wasn't there to witness it, or anyone, for that matter. It could have been a ploy all this time. Velour is more than capable of killing someone, and she's always had something against Olivine, and them being alone would be the perfect time to kill her.

I know I tell myself I don't care about Olivine dying, but in a way, I do. She's my District partner, shouldn't that mean something? I don't plan on getting revenge on Velour or anyone, but that doesn't mean I will excuse anyone. For all I know, Velour could have killed her, and then acted like it was Amara. I'm not intimidated by Velour or anything, but when you're on her bad side, she gets hostile and never lets it go.

One thing I do know is that you don't need any hatred in the Games; it only increases your chances of dying.

Mariel's death, on the other hand, was predictable. She was too nice and introverted to survive. For her killer, I don't even have a guess of who it could have been. When we heard someone screaming, we all assumed it was her, and when we went to where the screams came from, she was already dead. There was no trace of anyone else around, and that's what bothers me.

How could someone be so cowardice? You kill someone, and then escape. Take credit for your actions.

On that same day, someone else died too. Yesterday was a bit of a crazy day, since there were a total of three deaths, and all of them had some impact on me. Not that I care that they died, but I witnessed one of them and the other two were my allies. The one I witnessed was the District Eight male, who was killed by Cove.

At first, I planned on taking the kill, but then I thought about it. I should let Cove have the kill, since I'll have time to make another one, while Cove might not. I stood back, letting Cove take control of the situation. He killed the boy quickly and efficiently, and I was proud of him. He proved himself worthy to me, and now I don't mind going hunting with him or pairing up with just him to go anywhere.

But, as of now, on day three, things are going well.

Velour is leaned against the glass wall, eating grapes she found one-by-one, making sure to extend her arm and stick up her neck as she plops one into her mouth. Cove is on the ground, drawing pictures in the dirt on the ground. Adam is hunched over in the corner, staring deeply into the sky. Then there's me, who is sharpening my shovel with a rock.

"We need to do something," I say, standing up from the ground. "Let's just go for a _stroll_."

Velour looks interested, as she drops the grapes she was holding onto the ground and flips her hair over her shoulder. Cove looks up at me, stopping his finger from drawing the last line on his drawing of the Capitol emblem. Adam doesn't give me any care, still looking up at the sky.

"Velour, Cove, you're with me. Adam, you're staying here as guard," I order, pointing my finger at them individually.

Velour and Cove stand next to me, Cove poking Velour in the shoulder and Velour simply staring at me. Adam still doesn't look at me, and then I lose interest in him. If he doesn't want to do anything, then he doesn't have to. I would have much rather him dying over Olivine, to be honest. At least Olivine was entertaining; Adam is just emotionless and lethargic.

I raise my arm, gesturing for Velour and Cove to follow me. Without even looking back at Adam, I exit the large circular room, walking through the door I haven't gone through yet. I don't pay much attention to the scenery or environment, simply because I don't care for that stuff right now. The only thing I need to find someone.

I need to prove to the audience that I can kill. I need to prove to my _father_ that I kill.

Velour, Cove, and I continue to walk, the two of them behind me engaging in small conversation. Cove just makes bad jokes, and even though I try not to smirk, they are rather funny. Funny in a corny way, though. Velour just giggles obnoxiously, throwing her arm around Cove's neck as she laughs like a child.

We take a quick turn, entering a long hallway that is made of glass. The sun is still in the sky, shining brighter than ever, and I begin to walk down it quickly. I'm getting bored, to be honest. The Games seemed much more fun and interesting on the television. As we come across another door, I hold my hand out, gesturing for everyone to stop. The door in front of me is glass, but it is covered in vines, and I peek through the openings. On the other side, I can see people.

It's the girls from Five, Eight, and Twelve. Minx, Quole, and Amara. All of them at once.

I turn my head, smirking, and it seems that Velour has already taken notice of the girls as well. Cove isn't as prepared to fight as Velour, since he's still trying to get his knife out of his belt. Velour is prepared, though, with her garden hose wrapped around her hands. I grip my shovel in my hands tightly, beginning to open the door slowly.

The door doesn't make any noises, which is always a good sign. We can sneak around, and then take them all out. Cove will be there just as a distraction, and then Velour and I can go in for the kill. I wait a few more seconds, and then with one swift movement, open the door at once. In front of the door, in the other room, there are several bushes, and that's where I gesture for all of us to hide.

We all take our positions behind the bushes, getting out game faces on and getting ready to attack. I hold my hand up in the air, counting down from five with my fingers. When there is only one finger left up in the air, I get into a sprinting position. Then, I put down the last finger.

And that's when we go in for the kill.

I run to the left, Velour runs to the right, and Cove runs directly in between us. We come at them, and they don't even notice us until we're only a few feet away from them. Amara is the quickest one there, though, and she grabs the two girls by their collars. They leave all of their supplies behind, sprinting towards one of the doors. Quole is the slowest out of all of them, and I realize that this is my chance.

I sprint much faster, trying to catch up with Quole, and I eventually treading right behind her. Holding my hand out in front of me, I grab her by her arm, and throw her down to the ground. I raise my shovel, about to bring it down, but then I look into her face. It's emotionless and her eyes are bulging out of her head.

_Can I really do this? _

I take a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to kill this girl, but I have trouble doing that. I lower my shovel, still hovering over her, and take another deep breath. I look at her one more time, and her face is still emotionless.

_You have to do this, Nero. For your father._

With the mention of my father, I bring the shovel down on her abdomen, the shovel impaling her stomach forcefully. Her mouth opens wide, but no noise comes out. She doesn't even begin to cry or whimper either, and her face still remains emotionless. I yank the shovel out of her stomach, wiping the blood off of the shovel on the grass.

I look up to see Velour throw her garden hose, and as it is extended, it wraps around the girl from Five's legs, pulling her down to the ground. As I look back down at the girl on the ground, who I just killed, I try to push away all of my feelings and thoughts. Her cannon sounds, but I try to force myself to not listen to it. I don't want to face that I just killed a little girl. Shaking my head, I try to rid my mind of all of this. I had to do it; there was no other way.

The girl from Twelve, Amara, stands in the doorway, staring at Velour who is tying the garden hose around Minx's hands and feet. Once Amara realizes that I am coming her way, she broadens her shoulders. I grunt once, and she returns my noise with a grunt of her own, and she doesn't look like she is backing down any time soon. In a swift movement, she lunges forward at Velour, but before she can reach them, I bring the shovel down on her back. Amara falls down to the ground, and as she falls, she throws her arm outwards. She hits my knee, and I buckle over, falling to the ground as well.

I try to grab my shovel, but before I can, Amara is already on her feet. Cove throws his knife, trying to hit Amara, but it misses, landing in the bush next to me. Velour pulls Minx away by her feet, watching Amara carefully. I begin to get up, and that's when Amara begins to back away. She runs down the hallway without looking back at all, and you can hear her saying things to herself. Cove retrieves his knife from the bush and I picky my shovel off the ground.

Velour stands up, turning Minx on her back. Velour tied the garden hose around her tightly, and there is no way she can escape now. Cove and Velour pick the girl up from the ground, carrying her in their arms.

"We will use her for bait," Velour says, rather exasperated.

"Bait for what?" I ask, treading behind them.

"For Amara. If we have Minx, Amara will try to come and save her.

I nod, acting as if this is a good plan. I mean, it is. But, why do we need to include the girl? Why can't we just go after Amara now?

What will Velour do to Minx after Amara is dead?

_Will Minx die too? Just like Quole?_

_Am I really comfortable with witnessing another child's death?_

_Of course you are. This is the only way you can win, Nero. This is the only way you're father will accept you. _

* * *

**Adam Kent  
District Four Male, 17 Years Old  
Day Three: Night**

* * *

_I let her die. _

I let Mariel stay there alone.

No one stayed back with her, and even though I wanted someone to, no one did. I should have stayed with her and I shouldn't have left. If I stayed there, she wouldn't be dead. This all happened because I was reckless. I never thought that someone would kill her. Besides, we were only gone for a little while.

How could this have happened?

_Don't worry about Mariel, Adam. You love Gwen, not her._

I cared for Mariel. I wanted to protect her and I wanted her to survive, and I have failed. She is now dead, and I can't help but feel that this is my fault. I should have been there and killed whoever attacked her. She could have been alive right now, but she's not.

And it's all my fault.

I slam my fist against the ground, grunting out of infuriation. Standing up, I feel like a heavy weight is being placed on my shoulders. For some reason, I don't feel right and I feel uneasy. The sounds of Mariel's screaming ring through my ears, making me even more infuriated.

_Mariel had to die. She had to._

No. I won't accept. She didn't have to die right then and there. It just happened that someone came her way, and she wasn't ready to fight. She wasn't much of a fighter either way, and that's why she needed protection.

What about her family back in District Four now? I bet they hate me because I didn't protect her. Now, I have failed Gwen and I have failed Mariel's family.

_But which one is more important to me?_

Grabbing my rake off the ground, I begin to walk aimlessly. I walk down a hallway or two, taking random turns and walking through random hallways. It doesn't matter where I'm going anymore, since nothing matters. The only person I loved in District Four doesn't even like me anymore, and the one girl I liked here is dead.

What else is there to fight for?

_For Gwen and Mariel._

But, if one doesn't like me and one is dead, what is there to fight for?

_To prove yourself. To prove that you care about both of them, and that you're not a quitter._

Is that really worth it, though? Is it?

_You tell me, Adam._

As I enter another room, I nearly walk into a tree. Even though the room is somewhat lit up by the moon, this room is especially dark. The large trees and bushes in this room aren't helping either, since they are taking up most of the room. The trees' shadows are reflected on the wall, looking like a creature of some sort. Suddenly, another shadow pops up. This time, it's two people.

_Real _people.

After pushing down the hopes that Mariel could have been miraculously, I force myself to check it out. I walk forward, not being sneaky or stealthy, stepping on branches and snapping them. You can tell one of the people is a girl, since you can see the shadow of her flowing hair trailing behind her. The other person with her is a boy.

I get closer and closer to the two people, and as I snap one last branch, they begin to run. I begin to run too, dodging a few of the branches that are jutting out from the trees, and some of them hitting me in the face. The two figures in front of me stop, as indicated by their shadows, and then their shadows disappear.

They must be hiding now.

I sway from here-to-there, glancing into every bush and looking at every tree I pass. I make small noises, almost like a hum, trying to attract them out of hiding. For all I know, it could be my allies, but I don't know. Stabbing some of the bushes with my bush, I try to locate them with a little violence now. I sharpened my rake earlier, so now the points at the top of it are more deadly.

"I know someone is in here," I taunt, my voice sounding monotonous.

There's a squeak, but it is quickly muffled. It came from the bush in the farthest corner of the room, and now that I know where they are, they can't escape.

"Stop wasting your time and face me," I taunt again, and this time, I bang the rake against a tree.

I continue taunting them with mindless threats and names, and then someone finally comes out. It's the District Three male, Robin, and you can see that he is in a healthy condition. His District partner, Kaelyn, steps out of the bush as well, but stands behind Robin. It looks like Robin has someone to protect too.

But, why has he done a better job than me? Has he stayed by her side? Has he protected her because he cares about her more than I cared about Mariel?

Robin opens his mouth to speak, but Kaelyn places her hand on his shoulder and he closes his mouth. We both stare at each other for a minute or so, not making any movements or saying anything. He raises the rake he has in the air, pointing it directly at me. Kaelyn doesn't have any weapon equipped, and I realize that this is my chance.

This is my chance to prove myself to Gwen and to avenge Mariel's death. Besides, why does this boy deserve anyone?

What makes him better than me? What makes him more worthy to keep someone he cares about alive?

Robin should face the same problems I am facing right now. This girl does not deserve to live as long as Robin is alive. Mariel and I were similar to Kaelyn and Robin, and what happened to Mariel and I will happen to them. Kaelyn will die, and Robin will live.

I step forward, causing Robin to grip his rake tighter and jut it out farther. After I make one more movement, Robin begins to sprint towards me. He has a determined grin on his face, and as he gets closer and closer to me, I step to the side. He tries to change direction, but before he can come anywhere near me with his rake, I throw mine.

I throw mine at Kaelyn.

I watch the rake glide through the air, and I watch as Kaelyn tries to dodge it. But, before she can move to the side, it impales her in the stomach. She falls down on her knees, trying to keep herself from falling down to the ground completely. Robin stops at the sound of Kaelyn falling to the ground, dropping his rake. He turns around, not looking at me anymore, and stares at Kaelyn. After Kaelyn's body falls to the ground and her cannon sounds, he clenches his fist and points his fist at me.

"What have you just done?" Robin asks, his voice shaky.

"I did what I had to," I reply, looking down at the ground.

"What you _had_ to do?" He shouts, his voice becoming shakier as he raises it. "You didn't have to kill her!"

"But, I did, Robin."

Robin steps forward, bringing his fist closer to me. "Why did you have to kill her? So you feel better about yourself? So you fill the void of losing your own District partner?"

At the mention of my District partner, I get mad. I shoot my head upwards, and he realizes that he has just infuriated me, since he lowers his fist and backs up a few steps. As I begin to walk towards him, he backs up even more, and once I'm in a full sprint towards him, he runs away.

Robin runs down one of the hallways, the moon reflecting off of him creating another shadow. When he is a safe distance away from me, he turns around.

"You'll regret this!" He shouts, throwing his fist in the air.

I remain silent, waiting for him to continue running away. He eventually does, and I am now left alone in the room. Kaelyn's body is still there, and even though she is dead, it doesn't seem real and I don't feel accomplished.

Why do I feel the same? Why don't I feel better about myself?

Why do I still want to go home to Gwen? Why do I still miss Mariel?

_Why can't I just get rid of these thoughts? _

* * *

_**District Five, Sinter Farwood – Placed 18**__**th**_

_**District Eight, Quole Issa – Placed 17**__**th**_

_**District Three, Kaelyn Taitrin – Placed 16**__**th**_


End file.
